Category: Places

Whatever happened to my promise for more visuals in this blog? Oh, yeah, here they are:

do as the Romans do.” You’ve heard the saying, no doubt, or used it yourself. The meaning is clear: as a visitor, act like the locals do. It goes all the way back to 5th century Rome, when Augustine of Hippo (later Saint Augustine) noticed the Romans practiced fasting on Saturday, while the Milanese did not. Bishop (later Saint) Ambrose explained that he abided by the local custom wherever he was, and the saying was born.

In that light, some cultural observations (note: there is more humor than truth here):

When in the States, time is money, appointments are moral commitments, and the only thing better than cheaper is faster. When in Mexico, time is relative, appointments are suggestions, and the only thing better than cheaper is cheapest.

When in Mexico, the Virgen (de Guadalupe) comes first, the bandera (flag) comes second, and (insert your favorite futbol club) comes third. When in the States, ME comes first, your home state comes second, and third place is for losers.

When in the States, drive fast on the left, park on the right, and turn left with a signal. When in Mexico, drive mostly on the road, park mostly off the road, and do whatever you want with a left turn signal.

When in Mexico, food is spiced to taste, while alcohol and clothing are apportioned by sex (more for men than women). When in the States, food is spiced like some kind of survival test, alcohol is apportioned by weight (the bigger you are, the more you drink), and clothing is the reverse (the more you weigh, the less you wear).

Upon meeting someone new, when in the States, first ask “what do you do?” then “where are you from?” before asking about politics. When in Mexico, first ask “what are you called?” then “how are you?” before asking about futbol.

When in Mexico, prices are a matter of debate, mandatory taxes are optional for everyone, and cash is king. When in the States, prices are set in stone, optional taxes are mandatory for everyone except the very rich, and plastic (money) is king.

When in the States, a leak in your roof is a major disaster, home insurance protects you from lawsuits, and you may legally defend yourself in your own home. When in Mexico, a roof leak necessitates a mop & Flex Seal©, ineffective courts protect you from the need for home insurance, and you can kill any intruder to your casa.

America has a separation of Church and State such that there is freedom of religion and no religious test for public office. Mexico has a separation of Church and State such that the government owns all religious properties and some religions are illegal.

Mexico has a right to bear arms but makes it difficult to buy or carry a weapon. America has a right to bear arms but makes it difficult to get a good site line on a target.

When in the States, mail is regular, bills are prompt, and property taxes are high. When in Mexico, mail is ocasional, bills eventual, and what exactly are property taxes, again?

When in Mexico, corruption is blatant, government is inefficient but unobtrusive, and pornography is private. When in the States, corruption is private, government is efficient and obtrusive, and pornography is blatant.

When in the States, the road is for driving, the shoulder is for stopping, and the median strip separates traffic going in different directions. When in Mexico, any flat surface will do for driving, shoulders are for retail activities, and the median strip is for cattle grazing.

When in Mexico, the menu is only a starting point for deciding what to order, and the offerings include anything the wait-staff can walk to within a block (even other restaurants and bars). When in the States, “items may not be available” can be a special of the day and your waiter may not be willing to ask the kitchen what the soup du jour is.

When in the States, the President is crazy, the government is not there to help you, but your family is. Wait a minute, that one’s the same in Mexico!

well, anything you like. Business? yes. Tourism? Yes. Just because you can’t stand to be locked down in your house another day? Yes.

Wait, you say, isn’t the US-Mexican border closed to non-essential travel? Yes. The United States, Canada, and Mexico initiated this lockdown back in March, and extended it as recently as late August (text at the link). You can close the US-Mexican border for a few days, you can even close a specific border crossing for weeks. But, one can’t simply shut down the the US- Mexican border.

Why? It’s the most crossed border in the world. Europeans make much of the freedom of travel within the EU under the Schengen agreement, and yes, it’s great. But a million people a day cross the US-Mexico international border, not to mention world record amounts of commercial products. And it has stayed open. The announced restrictions exempted workers crossing the border and business/goods. And US citizens have always been allowed “to return home.” There have been verified problems for Canadians trying to drive home from Mexico, but otherwise the border still hums.

And, the restrictions mentioned above only applied to the land border. US tourists remain welcome in Mexico’s many resorts. So if you wish to fly or cruise (are any ships cruising?) to Mexico, it’s still there waiting. And it is one of the few places welcoming Americans these days!

But should you travel now? That is a complicated question which involves your personal willingness to accept risk. How healthy are you? How vulnerable are you to the coronavirus? What comorbidities do you have? Can you effectively quarantine before/after travel and how vulnerable are your family/friends? Do you know what to do if you get sick while travelling? Only you can answer these questions. Personal and tourist travel is continuing today–even picking back up–along with travel-shaming (“how dare you endanger . . . “).

On the plus side, travel deals are pretty good. Mexico is friendly, welcoming, and familiar for the American tourist. Your dollars will greatly help workers in the tourism sector, who generally work for tips and have little savings and little help from the federal government. They will also assist Mexico’s ailing tourism industry, which is an essential part of the nation’s economy.

On the negative side, there is that whole Covid19 thingy. Resorts are going to great lengths to ensure sanitary conditions. Some attractions are closed, or less enjoyable. Your favorite buffet is probably not going to be there. You may get a tan line around a face mask. Is the pandemic better or worse in Mexico? Yes. Here is the most current data on new cases. Mexico has plateaued, but its case count is suspect due to limited testing. My best guess is it is about the same as the US.

I don’t make this recommendation lightly. I canceled a college reunion I was going to host in August here at Lake Chapala because at that time, it was unclear where the pandemic was headed and how the government in Mexico City would respond. That is no longer the case. I have travelled back and forth to the US recently and it was simple and safe; we will do so again soon. Given everything else going on, just realize getting away to Mexico remains an option, if you so choose. And no, I don’t get a cut from anybody!

The continuing quarantine, partial as it is, is mostly about not doing things: not traveling, not getting to see family and friends, not being able to congregate in groups, not attending Mass, not having sports to watch. As I pondered the continuing effects of the coronavirus, I had to ask myself: what if anything could I say I have done that I could blame, specifically, on the quarantine? And a few things came to mind, namely:

We bought a freezer. One of those seven cubic feet, chest-style machines from Coppal, a local vendor. Now we had pondered getting one earlier, but since we eat out so frequently, and eat fresh meat and produce when we cook in, we simply didn’t see the need for a freezer. The quarantine challenged both of those givens: no restaurants, and avoiding going to the tienda every other day. We reconsidered: it’s nice to have some storage for larger portions of meat, etc. and I’ll admit having some frozen convenience foods (pizza, wings, ice cream) close at hand beats trying to go out and buy them every time a craving hits. Judy remains concerned we don’t need it; I’m up to the challenge of filling it!

My fountain came out as a planter. Or more specifically, it completed that transition. We had the option to put a fountain somewhere on our property when we were having the house built, so we put it in the middle of our interior courtyard. The idea of a fountain was superior to its incarnation. It’s an energy hog, the fountain was never loud enough to hear over other ambient sounds, and it can become a breeding ground for mosquitoes. The pump failed. It was difficult to keep clean. The quarantine left me pondering it almost daily, and something had to give. So, first I drained it and put an herb garden on top of it. Then I drilled drainage holes in the bottom, filled it with dirt, and started to add plants. The soil will always be wet during the rainy season, so I am experimenting with different plants to see what takes. First up is Alocacia.

Finally, I reviewed and updated my bug-out bag. What’s that you ask? It’s a long story, going all the way back to when we were first married and living in what was then West Germany. While the US Army there awaited a Soviet invasion that never came, our spouses and families were instructed to have a bag packed for a speedy evacuation in the event of war. Ours did, with a twist. The families were supposed to be bussed to Rhein-Main airbase and evacuated from the same hub where the rest of the US Army (from the States) was arriving. Except that was also where the Russians were going to drop chemical weapons to delay the reinforcements, and where was all the protective gear for spouses and children? So my family’s bug-out bag was designed with what they needed for a quick drive south to and across the Swiss border. Never needed it, but the concept always stuck with me.

The contents of the bug-out bag vary based on from what you’re running: a bag for the zombie apocalypse is different from one for the Red Army. When we moved to the DC area, the bag was primarily for me to grab as part of a family evacuation plan, designed to be executed from wherever one was when notified. That one was mainly in the event of some kind of weapon of mass destruction threat/event, and the ensuing mass panic. Nowadays, our bag is primarily for some kind of natural disaster and subsequent need to “live off the land.”

It’s not elaborate or expensive: some basic first aid gear, some multi-tools, fire-starter, space blankets and ponchos, a US Armed Forces Survival Manual, blades and tools, among other things. Upon review, what lacked in mine was water capacity. Face it, in any survival situation, water is the critical resource, but you can’t carry enough. So I added some large plastic water bottles and a Steri-straw, a basic filtration device which allows you to drink from most any natural source.

The idea well predates the recent “prepper” craze, although there are similarities. Bug-out bags are just a little extra preparedness; prepping is more of a lifestyle choice, in my opinion. Anyway, the long hours of quarantine proved a good opportunity to review and inspect everything, replace some items, do the basic math and add a few things. Never would have gotten around to it otherwise.

Nothing remarkable here, but a few things to note. Oh, and the title of the post? well, it’s an homage that goes all the way back to 1963! Do you remember?

I have mentioned before that one’s success at any expat life is dependent upon one’s ability to adapt to cultural differences: from whatever culture you came, to whatever culture you go. External influences (age, health, money, government policies) may play a role in how long one can be an expat, but the question of how happy one is as an expat comes down to how well one can fit in. Because the culture will be different, and the culture does not adapt to you, you adapt to it. Or be unhappy.

I covered the mañana culture in Mexico before, and it is one of the large cultural changes. Coming from TYPE A America, where everything is about efficiency, speed, and acquisition (of things), moving to a culture where things . . .

will . . .

get . . .

done . . .

eventually (mañana, not necessarily tomorrow): well that takes much getting use to.

Likewise, there is the challenge of the relationship between honesty and politesse (A word I learned from the Rolling Stones, thank-you-very-much).

People here are extremely polite, and basically honest, but emphasize more of the former than the latter. So to avoid offending you, they’ll agree with you when they really don’t, commit to something they have no intention of ever doing, answer a question they don’t actually know the answer to, or give directions to a destination they don’t know. In Mexican culture, this is all understood, and no one would get upset about it. For expats, it’s another story.

Another cultural difference I have alluded to is what I call the “Robin Hood” culture of Mexico. There is an interplay between the concepts of fairness and legality that is just different here. Drop a wallet on the street, and some local will move heaven-and-earth to get it back to you, intact with all the bills and credit cards. Why? A dropped wallet is a misfortune that could befall anyone, and it is only right and proper to help someone who has had such bad luck. These same folk think nothing of conducting as much business as possible “off-book” avoiding charging/paying the value-added tax which funds much of the government. Why? The government is viewed with suspicion, as another entity looking out only for special interests. In a similar vein, nice houses here often have a large exterior compound wall with concertina wire, broken glass and nails, or electrified fencing. Why? If you have wealth and don’t protect it, it must mean nothing to you, so some people view it as available to others who have less (hence the prevalence of petty theft). The wall and wire are statements of both privacy and security: go find someone who doesn’t care about their stuff.

Of course, if you’ve seen the Disney movie CoCo (97% on Rotten Tomatoes!!) or witnessed Dia de Muertos in person, you are familiar with how Mexico views the family and death: you take care of your own, and death is a tragicomic end not to be feared. A skeleton elicits laughs or smiles here: terror NOB. Katrinas, lovingly-maintained roadside shrines to pedestrians killed (oh, so many), and sugar-candy skulls (calaveras): very different indeed!

The final obvious difference brings these observations together: the effects of the coronavirus pandemic. A nation which emphasizes taking care of your own (vice relying on the government, which is usually corrupt or ineffective), where family is the most important thing and work something you do, not who you are? A place that laughs at death and knows how to party? Where life may be unfair, but people are ready to go the extra mile for those in need? How would they deal with a deadly, global pandemic?

Mexico is 10th largest country (in population) and 15th in GDP. They currently have over 200,000 CoVid19 cases (11th overall) and 27,000 fatalities (7th overall). Yes, there is the same mix of resentment of the government, ridiculous conspiracies, and magical thinking as other countries/populations. The medical system does better for the wealthy than the poor and is inadequate for large-scale intensive care needs. The federal government initially tried denial as a national policy and still is not stepping up to secure the economy. Yet, there is no panic. Why has the nation weathered the storm so well?

In a word: Culture. Corona beer faced a marketing catastrophe: it doubled down and came out smiling. Mexican society is more unequal than America’s (as measured by the Gini coefficient); people aren’t happy about it, but still no one is out protesting about it. The economic consequences of the lockdown have been severe, yet somehow people are getting by. Extended families look out for one another, and for neighbors and friends of friends.

Think culture matters? Nicholas Kristof had an interesting Op Ed piece in the New York Times yesterday. He detailed something called the “Hispanic Paradox.” Hispanic Americans are part of a marginalized ethnic minority, yet they drink less alcohol, commit fewer crimes, die less frequently of drug overdoses, and are less likely to commit suicide than the white majority. On top of discrimination and poverty, Hispanics are less likely to have health insurance than either black or white Americans, yet they have the longest life expectancy among those three groups. Interestingly, as immigrants give way to second- and third-generation Americans, these advantages gradually recede. The overwhelmingly largest group of Hispanic Americans? Mexican Americans.

No one cultural point (e.g., faith) explains the paradox. But anyone familiar with the culture of Mexico, its web of family and friends, its relentless sense of joy and personal satisfaction, and its acceptance of life’s indignities or death’s inevitability, would not have any difficulty explaining it.

Pronounced “la YU-vi-a”, it is Spanish for the rain. Frequent readers will notice that I have tried to wax rhapsodic about the coming of the rainy season. I don’t think people who live with intermittent rains all year long can really understand what it’s like to go without rain for six months. There is a dryness in the air that, like the polvo (dust) from the road, gets into the very soul. The omnipresent sun, such a blessing, becomes a curse only shade can aleve. There is a reason, I believe, the word arid in English has negative connotations in climate and relationships. The old joke “yeah, but it’s a dry heat” is only a joke told in temperate climates.

Here in the waning days of June, any precipitation is a cause for expectation. Is this it: the end of the dry season, the beginning of the rain? Even the year after a year of record rainfall (when some locals were worried about the potential for flooding because the lake had not receded much and the rainy season was about to begin): yes, even then we welcomed the advent of the rains.

In the temperate world, rain requires context. A drenching rain in summer cools off the land, while the cold rains of Spring are a plague (ask me about my Camino!). Rain in the winter yields the careful calculation of the freezing point. In the workaday world, rain meant accidents and delays on crowded highways. Rain on a long run might be acceptable, but rain on a picnic: no.

Here it is different. Rain changes everything, and heralds the best time of the year. During the dry season, water your plants everyday or they die, unless you choose (like me) to plant succulents native to this high desert plateau. During the rainy season, water the garden mañana. The extra fine coating of dust which nightly overlays your terracotta tile floor, suggesting an ice rink, magically disappears. The strategic positioning of curtains–to block the relentless sun–and fans–to promote circulation–are suddenly unnecessary. Each evening, clouds do the blocking and winds whip up (whence tonight?) to clear the air.

Then the rain: cooling, thunderous, at times horizontal and changing cardinal directions at a moment’s notice. And of course the freshness that is everywhere after a good hard rain. When we first moved here, I would scurry to close the windows from the capricious rain. Then I realized that the water just collects on the tile, and you brush it out the door or let it dry and so what?

It is saddening that the snowbirds who overwinter here in Mexico mostly miss the rainy season. The transition period, when our flora move from Phoenix to Honolulu, when the temperature briefly flirts with too hot before settling into wonderful, and the sun passes from scorching to friendly: that is what makes some call it paradise.

The Ides of June are well past, so we’ll have no early start to the rainy season. But start it will. It rained once last week, and then again two nights back. And now again last night. There is something different in the air, and it is as welcome as an old friend.

As expats, we’re all strangers in a strange land, but never more so than now. Today all expats live in the same place: pandemia. Expats always face the fundamental challenge of how and where to access healthcare, and that challenge stares one in the face when sick or injured abroad. I’ve written before that–especially for older retiree expats–healthcare is the number one reason expats return to their homeland.

A pandemic places those challenges in a particularly harsh light. You may have health insurance, but how does it consider an outlier event like a pandemic? Many folks with travel insurance learned that their insurers treated a pandemic as a force majeure, an act of God, outside coverage: surprise! Going to the doctor or hospital and dealing with medical terminology is difficult enough, but how about translating all that through a foreign language? Now add in crowded conditions and overwhelmed staffs. How does your host country view palliative care, determine treatment priorities (e.g., limiting ventilators to younger patients), or distribute new medicines? When the local government suggests you stay home via a police helicopter loudspeaker overhead, does that mean “please” or “or else!”?

I get a weekly reminder from the US Embassy in Mexico City that some flights are still available, as well as a note saying that if I wait too long I may not be able to return when I want. The Canadian government went a step further, I am told, and basically directed Canadian expats to return or face the loss of their health coverage, which instigated a mass take-off of Canadian snowbirds northward.

The Mexican government has taken a low-key approach to the pandemic. The state-run health system is chronically underfunded and understaffed, so the biggest problem has been lack of capacity. The federal government has not emphasized testing, as testing is mainly useful as a guide to treatment, and their logic is since no treatment is available, why test? Instead they have emphasized social distancing, masks, and closures/lockdowns, while tracking hospital admissions and trying to create additional capacity when and where it is needed. Of course transparency is also not a big thing in government here, so it is unclear how well the approach is working.

We have a daily press briefing with Presidente AMLO, and color-coded charts of cases, and phases of closure/reopening. The state of Jalisco has somewhat gone its own way, while not violating the federal government’s guidelines. We are currently in something called “fase cero” (phase zero) which is a preparatory phase for businesses to get certified to reopen starting June 1st. Except now we’re not.

Overnight, the federal government changed the criteria and reporting grades on the country, moving every state (save Zacatecas) to “maximum risk” without further explanation. While the government’s own data has shown the number of cases rising, there was no sudden spike in deaths/hospitalizations. According to the federal government, this new status freezes reopening for the foreseeable future. Some critics say the move appears to be an attempt to deflect blame if things get worse.

However, Governor Alfaro of Jalisco has other ideas. He has decided not to accept the federal description of our state’s data, and instead continue with Phase Zero activities for two more weeks. For locals, that’s great news! Here is the Governor’s address (all fifteen minutes of it) with subtitles:

This announcement is full of entreaties to the citizens of Jalisco to keep doing the right thing (social distancing, mask wearing, etc.) so we can continue to advance out of the lockdown. It reminds me of the old maxim “if you want to be treated as responsible adults, act like responsible adults.”

For our part, we’re (cautiously) enjoying the extra freedom.