Preparation – Page 3 – Pat the Expat

Passing a final test

As we’ve now lived here more than four years (how time flies under a facemask!), Judy and I have experienced most of the peculiarities of expat life in Mexico. And by peculiarities, I mean those little distractions, annoyances, or absurdities that make you go “what the . . . ” before shrugging your shoulders and finishing the thought with “solo en México” (only in Mexico).

There was the driver’s test–on computer–wherein it didn’t matter how we answered, we still passed. The time that we got a red light at customs and got to unpack our entire luggage, one item at a time, and explain what it is and why we have it, which of course coincided with my wife importing a year’s supply of make-up. The time the government refused to reimburse the temporary importation visa for my US car, and wanted me to prove I still had the car in the US, when it had never entered Mexico.

As you may have noticed, these events all involve government bureaucracy. Now, we have had many good stories to tell about visas approved, licenses renewed, taxes paid. But those stories are boring; the fun ones involve the trouble. So many went smoothly, some went poorly . . . and then there was SIMAPA.

SIMAPA stands for the Sistema Municipal de Agua Potable y Alcantarillado (de Chapala), that is the municipal water and sanitation authority. And in my opinion, they are the gold medalist in the bureaucratic olympiad. Before I explain why, it is fair to note that water has a history in Mexico, and that history plays a part. Being an arid country, water has always been a scarce resource. Those who had access to water often used it to control the poor, to seek advantage over rivals, or simply to lord it over those without access.

So as Mexico went through its various wars of independence and revolution, access to water came to be seen by the people as a fundamental right: and so it is, in the Mexican constitution. It is so fundamental that access to water cannot be totally shut off even if the recipient does not pay for it. Water bills are sometimes paid collectively by a home-owners association, and talk to any HOA board and you’ll find stories of owners who haven’t paid water dues for years. You can reduce the flow to some small amount, but you can’t shut it off; and that goes for the government, as well.

Likewise for sewage. If you’re hooked into municipal sewer lines, there’s an initial fee for accessing, and a yearly fee. But here’s the rub: there’s no way to shut the sewage flow off. So again, non-payment is a problem.

Our condominio (roughly, our development) has its own well, so we don’t use SIMAPA for fresh water. But we are hooked up to the municipal sewer lines. Our house was built in 2012, and round about late 2019 our condominio received notice from SIMAPA that, “hey, y’all are hooked up to the sewer lines, but you haven’t paid anything, so please do so.” My wife dutifully took a copy of the e-mail down to the local SIMAPA office, where she explained (in Spanish) that we needed to pay. The ladies working there looked at the e-mail (in English), looked at our address, then explained we didn’t have an account, so we could not pay. At that, they went back to their busy desks. One might assume a municipal authority would be interested in receiving seven years of back payments; one would be wrong (in Mexico).

Time passed and the quarantine hit, and since our sewage kept flowing away, we sort of forgot all about it. Finally we talked with a neighbor who reminded us we were supposed to go to the SIMAPA office and ask to “start an account.” The magic words (in Spanish) were not “pay a bill” but “start an account” and we needed a copy of our identification papers and a copy of our deed. We collected the pesos (in cash, naturally) and all the documents and copies and went back to SIMAPA.

Round Two began as a replay of Round One. We said we needed to start an account, but the SIMAPA ladies checked their online records and assured us we didn’t have an account. Yes, we knew that, but we produced our documentation and they threw up their hands and called the supervisor, who spoke English–up to that point, we had engaged in Spanish. The supervisor reviewed our deed copy and explained it was not an official copy, so we would have to return with an official copy in order to start an account. One might assume a municipal authority would be more interested in collecting now nine years of back payments, and was there really a problem in Mexico with people showing up to fraudulently pay OTHER PEOPLE’S DELINQUENT SEWAGE BILLS? One would be mistaken.

Weeks later, we collected an official deed copy, the pesos, copies of every bill and identification we could muster, extra copies of all these, and went back to SIMAPA for Round Three. We entered the office and cheerfully greeted the SIMAPA ladies; Judy even complimented one woman on her embroidered blouse (smiles all around). We explained that we did not have an account, but we needed to start one and pay our arrears. The SIMAPA ladies quickly checked online and confirmed we did not have an account (*sigh*–an unsettling déjà vu descended on us).

The supervisor reviewed our official deed, then used it just to provide our address to the woman at the keyboard. She began the (apparently) laborious process of opening a new account. Now everybody should have an account, but one felt like this was the first time an account had ever been opened. There was discussion about how to enter the address, how to print the bill, and even (no kidding) how much to charge us. The supervisor even asked us if we had an e-mail from the condominio stating what the charges were for this year! Wasn’t SIMAPA the ones who determined the charges, I thought? I told him “no” initially, but Judy checked her account and did find it.

They proceeded to develop a receipt, but I could see the supervisor and the lady on the keyboard were a little concerned by the size of the bill. It was, after all, for many years, and I am sure they have had some surly customers come in and go ballistic over a large bill. I told them they had approximated the bill for us once before, so we were ready for it, which seemed to alleviate their concerns. I even joked that we only wanted to pay our bill, not purchase all of SIMAPA (I got a little smile for that Dad-joke).

Finally, we paid the bill, got signed originals of the account statement, and went on our way, safe in the knowledge we were no longer sewage outlaws.

Solo en México.

Frames of Reference

Ever take a good hard look at your frames of reference? By that I mean the experiences, education, travel, lifestyle and intellectual pursuits that are not necessarily unique to you, but frame how you process and make sense of what’s going on around you. Some might call them your biases, but I think that’s a little too pejorative: we all have them, so why automatically think of them as negative?

For example, I grew up in a small town in the Midwest. I had a frame of reference that people were basically honest and friendly, schools were competent, the local authorities honest, and opportunities abounded. Americana 101. I also believed large cities were dirty, and people there were rude or potentially violent. Their schools were ramshackle. Their police might entrap you. Their government was corrupt.

I eventually lived in or near big cities, where I confirmed everything I previously held about them! I also learned the big cities were cosmopolitan, held cultural treasures, and had even more opportunities. And small towns could be somewhat provincial; imagine that!

The entire concept of generational cohorts (think “The Greatest Generation” or Baby-Boomers, Gen-Xers, Millennials) involves frames of reference. People who go through the same major events (say WWII) at around the same age tend to develop a common way of thinking. It’s not universal, but it is useful as a way to generalize about them. My grandmother, who survived the Great Depression as a young woman, always kept on hand a large supply of canned goods and other things, and retained a profound distrust of banks. Those characteristics were common among her generation, and persisted long after the cause for them ended: for example, when banks became federally insured.

What about your unconscious frames? If you grew up in the States, you most likely imbibed an English cultural frame. Which does not mean an understanding of English History; good heavens no! Most Americans think The War of the Roses was a 1989 divorce flick. No, I mean an English view of history and culture. France and the French: weak, decadent, presumptuous. Spain and the Spanish: corrupt, untrustworthy, nefarious. Germany and the Germans: autocratic, efficient, and of course Nazis. China and Chinese: inscrutable. India and the Indians: Servile. England and the English: indefatigable, educated, and enterprising. Hmmmmm, one of these things is not like the others! Where did Americans, who originally had little contact with many of these countries, get these stereotypes, some of which were contradicted by early American experience (France and Spain sided with us in the revolution against England)?

Frames are hard to identify simply by introspection; new experiences–or encountering other frames–make it easier. As an expat, I often laugh at some aspects of the US history I once learned: all about Plymouth Plantation and the English colony of Jamestown. Only after living in Latin America did I stop and reconsider that the Spanish settlement of St. Augustine, Florida, was forty-two years old when the English got to Jamestown, and the only reason Jamestown survived was the Spanish decided not to attack it.

As an expat, you bring a lifetime of frames to your new home. Expect police to be well-paid, well-trained public servants dedicated to the rule of law? Government to be efficient and transparent? Law to be impartial? Depending on where you land, maybe, maybe not. The reverse is also true. Where you once might have experienced people judged implicitly by their skin color, you might find those judgments applied to shades, or accents, or even facial structures!

Whether for good or ill, frames exist and affect us everyday. For expats, identifying your frames may be critical to whether you can ever fit in your new community. Change in cultural frames happens slowly, and almost never by external forces (I’m thinking the pacification of Germany and Japan as exceptions that prove the rule). When you come from somewhere else, you’re free to observe, to comment with courtesy, but most of all to respect the new culture. It may welcome you, but you sought it; it didn’t seek you.

Mexican Expat Myths #5: You don’t need to learn Spanish

This little gem gets trotted out lakeside from time-to-time. Someone will ask on social media “do I have to learn Spanish before I retire to Lake Chapala” or “can I get by with buenas this-and-that?” A few starchy old male expats in t-shirts sitting on the terraza harrumph back with why one must speak Spanish or why it’s only polite or just “stay out of my country” (that last one is always a little confusing).

It is absolutely true that lakeside, like the tourist havens, has plenty of English-speaking local residents. And plenty of bilingual expats to help out. The tourist sites actually prefer you speak English, because they have gone to the trouble of hiring bilingual staff and the one thing they want is a great customer experience (and review), not one that recalls the time your high school Spanish failed you and the mesera almost slapped you when you asked her if she was embarazada after spilling your drink (look it up, if you must).

Lakeside has many English-language amenities: churches and newspapers and clubs and the Lake Chapala Society and restaurants and drivers and tour companies and body shops and a special mercado and lawyers and real estate agents and bars and nightclubs and delivery services and all of them cater to English-speaking (only) expats. So it’s easy to believe you’re in some part of borderland Texas, or California, or even Florida where you don’t really need to speak Spanish.

But it is limiting. You see, the English-speaking veneer at lakeside is just that: a thin covering. Drive a few miles outside it, and try your “can you understand me if I shout?” bilingualism and you’ll get smiles and stares. People will try to help you, if they can figure out what you want. And that’s ok. But if you wander into a real Mexican restaurant, they may not understand your pantomime for less-spicy salsa. If you go driving around the many cultural or historical sites of Mexico, you might not understand whether the attraction is closed for an hour or for the day. Your legal documents are in Spanish with an ingles translation, and only the español is authoritative. If the police stop you, or you need an ambulance away from home, well, you get the point. You can travel (with a guide). You can go shopping (with a bilingual friend). You can attend the government bureaucracy (with a fixer). But you’re limited by what you don’t know: Spanish.

Which is not to say there aren’t a sizable number of expats who know a few Spanish words (the polite ones) or none at all and they still enjoy the expat life lakeside. It limits your travel areas, your circle of friends, your lifestyle. But there is still plenty to experience here.

Final judgment: You don’t need to learn Spanish: this is a tough one. How best to nuance it? You don’t need to be polite, either, but wouldn’t you rather be?

Mexican Expat Myths #4: Mexicans never say no

Expat version of a Dad joke:

Expat (to Mexican amigo): “Do Mexicans ever say ‘no’?”

Mexican amigo: “¡No!”

Sorry for that, but it had to be said.

It’s a common observation among expats that Mexicans don’t like to say a flat “no.” They consider it a bit rude, and it leads to cultural friction with gringos who are more accustomed to direct language. It all goes back to the importance of being educado, which can mean either educated or well-mannered (the latter in this case). Ask a Mexican amigo if you’re invited to the party, and you’ll find yourself invited to the party–even if it was a family-only affair before. It’s just the polite thing to do.

In some instances, this avoidance of “no” leads to unusual outcomes. For instance, order a beer at a restaurant and if they find they are out of stock, they might not come back and tell you “no,” they might send someone down the street to the liquor store to buy that beer for you. In other cases, it’s just frustrating. We contacted a local smithy about a metal frame artwork we wanted done, and he told us yes he could do it, and then came out and took measurements. And then . . . crickets. No response, no estimate, nada. Maybe he was too busy, maybe it was too hard; we’ll never know, except we never heard “no.”

The one exception which proves the rule is Mexican bureaucracy, where “no” is a common response. As in “no, a color copy is not acceptable” or “no, you don’t have a full copy of your CFE bill including the pages that are nothing but advertising” or “no, the written amount on this check is hyphenated incorrectly.” The French may have invented bureaucracy (and remember, it was an improvement over previous forms of administration), but Mexico has made it its own. If bureaucracy was an Olympic sport, Mexico would always medal.

Sometimes “no” comes out as “yes.” Sometimes it comes out as a reluctant “yes.” Sometimes it comes out as “maybe later” or “maybe never.” But it rarely comes out as “no.” As an expat, you can get annoyed about it, just accept it, or embrace it as charmingly polite. But it won’t change.

Final judgment: Mexicans never say “no.” Mostly True.

Mexican Expat Myths #3: You are safe in Mexico

When a fellow American learns we live in Mexico, the first question is always the same: “Is it safe?” I want to sponsor a contest for the wittiest response because I am sooooooooooo tired of saying just “yes.” Some examples:

“No, but the cartel I work for has great fringe benefits.”
“Yes, as long as your chauffeur keeps his Uzi fully loaded.”
“No, but the FBI and I have a disagreement about firearms possession.”
“Yes, and that Wall is going to really cut down on illegal Americans!”

Feel free to add your own ideas in the comments.

All of which begs the question. Let’s look at some facts.

More Americans expats live (1.5 million) or visit as tourists (35 million before the pandemic) in Mexico than any other country on earth. More Americans die (238 in 2018) in Mexico every year than any other country on earth, and of those murdered, exactly half were killed in Mexico! Mexico’s murder rate (19 per 100,000) is roughly four times America’s. Oh, and there’s that little problem of drug cartel violence: have you heard about it? No, really, there are drug cartels running around with automatic weapons, armored vehicles and even rocket propelled grenades!

Now let’s look beyond the numbers. The total number of Americans who died in Mexico comprises roughly one-third homicides and two-thirds accidental deaths, which include large numbers of drownings and traffic accidents. The latter two types are fueled, literally, by the excessive drinking which characterizes American tourist behavior in Mexico. Let’s face it, the American ideal of a Mexican tourist vacation is a palapa on a sunny beach with unlimited drinks. This is not unique to Mexico, but because of the large numbers of Americans visiting, it drives up the absolute numbers of tourist deaths.

The homicide total for Americans in Mexico runs under one hundred annually, among 35 million tourists and 1.5 million expats. That comes out to .2 per 100,00 or the same murder rate as Japan, which has the lowest murder rate in the world. Many of those murder victims are dual (Mexican and American) nationals. Very few are expats. Some are tourists. How can a country with such a high rate of criminal violence and murder have so few American victims?

Most of the answer stems from the nature of cartel violence in Mexico. The vast majority of the violence is inter- or intra-cartel violence, followed closely by cartel violence against Mexico’s legal authorities. If you’re involved in the drug business, you (and even your family) are fair game. Same goes for the police and military fighting against the cartels. Yet all sides try to avoid killing the uninvolved; the cartels even go to great lengths (giving out aid during the pandemic, for example) to curry public favor. Which is not to say innocent people don’t get caught in the crossfire; they do. But most of the violence is targeted and people learn to avoid the places or activities which might get one in the cross-hairs. There have been two famous fatal attacks near the border that involved cartels mistakenly targeting a Mexican family (permanent US residents driving an American-plated car) and the infamous November 2019 slaughter of American Mormon expats. In both cases the vehicles were on deserted roads in cartel country and were mistaken for rival gangs, despite desperate attempts by the victims to explain who they were.

(Warning: Explicit lyrics) “it comes that way at least that’s what they say when you play the game”

Expats learn certain neighborhoods, certain streets, certain houses are places to avoid. There is a huge difference between crime in the tourist zones and nearby in the Mexican neighborhoods. You can find references to crimes in Cancun (the town) that have nothing to do with Cancun (the tourist zone). Tourists, drinking and looking for the next party in the wee hours of the morning, are more likely to stumble into a bad situation. But even then, only sixty-seven Americans were murdered in all of Mexico in 2018. That’s a bad week in Chicago.

The isthmus that looks like the number “7” is the tourist zone; the city of Cancun is at upper left.

And of that total, some were caught up in the drug business: remember, if you buy, sell, transport or visit places where drug transactions occur, you are part of the game. Cartels will still try to avoid killing gringos, but only because it’s bad for business, and it’s clear nobody (the cartels, the Mexican government, the American government, people in general) treats the numbers of incidental American deaths as a crisis.

To wrap it all up: stay (mostly) sober, don’t drive at night (because of cows, not cartels), don’t flash cash or jewelry, and avoid drugs and bad neighborhoods. Sounds like good advice for everywhere, no? Do this, and Mexico is about as dangerous as Japan (or Mayberry). Don’t do these things, and it gets marginally more dangerous, but still not very.

Final judgment: Expats (and tourists) are safe in Mexico: Mostly True.

Payin’ bills

Way back in January, we decided to let our property manager go and take responsibility for our casa on our own. It’s gone pretty well, as we’ve made arrangements for all the usual things (handyman, water softener and filter maintenance, plumber, gardener, house cleaning, etc.) without too much effort. Yes, we had to learn which bills could be paid online, which had to be paid in person, and where to pay them. Some can be paid with a US credit card online, others only with a Mexican credit card. As I mentioned before here, some have discounts if paid early, others have a penalty for late payment. Most allow you some grace period, and as far as I can tell, few are exacting about the amount. If you pay a little more or less than the bill, it just gets rolled over to the next payment (government bills and the phone service being exceptions).

We were pretty much set for the year by March, when the quarantine and shut down hit. The only exception was our car registration. I was going to go the last week in March, but I had a stomach ache and decided to wait, and then: boom goes the coronavirus. And I totally forgot about the car.

Until last week, when I saw a notice in the local English language paper that the Jalisco government was extending (through July) the grace period before fines went into effect for auto registration renewal. So I got after it.

I had been warned about the long lines at this office. My first trip to it was in the early afternoon, and sure enough, I drove past to see lines out in the street and just kept going. That was last week, the beginning of the month, so perhaps more people were going to get it out of the way. I decided to get up early (when I say early, I mean expat retiree/Mexico time early) and hit the office when it opens at 8:30 am, when the lines should be more manageable.

Degollado 306. The only person you see is cleaning the glass doors!

That is, if there were lines. I arrived at 8:35 with not a soul in sight. Made my way in to the counters, where two clerks were handling two customers. Just as I sat down in the waiting chairs (thoughtfully socially distanced), the clerk beckoned. I walked up, performed in flawless (and rehearsed) subjunctive Spanish my desire to pay my auto registration renewal and handled over the expired registration card. The clerk said gracias and started typing my info into his machine, hit “enter” and the printer spat out my documentation. I paid my 702 MXP bill (a little less than $35 USD, including a small mandatory-voluntary donation to the Mexican Red Cross) and was on my way in under one minute.

Boring, yes? But a little piece of normalcy, too. It was nice to avoid the lines, better still to do something routine in a routine manner . . . perhaps with the exception I was masked. It made me think: when people sometime in the future see pictures of people wearing masks, they’ll (probably) immediately associate it with 2020, a tell of from what era the picture was taken. Just an odd thought at the end of oddly routine day!

Things to do in Quarantine

The Governor of Jalisco asked everyone in the state to observe a 5 day stay-at-home quarantine, with the exception of going out to get food or medicine. It is a pretty mild measure compared to what’s being introduced in the States and Canada, and certainly a taste of the future, given the arrival of CoVid19 here on a plane from Vail, Colorado. I thought I would start posting some of the interesting ways you can fill the time, with an emphasis on how the internet and online resources can help, since this is the first global quarantine to occur with those resources available. Feel free to add in any interesting resources you know/use in the comments!

In terms of news, the New York Times and Washington Post are providing all CoVid19 coverage free, so you can access them to keep up to date. If you choose to read their political commentary, that’s up to you! For data on the outbreak, I still find the best tracker to be this one from Johns Hopkins. Another amazing source for data hounds is the free coverage from the Financial Times; they have country data arrayed on a series of graphs, and they use logarithmic scales, as is appropriate for exponential rates (but of course, you knew that!). Of course, the CDC homepage is the place to go for any talk of tests, treatments, and cures. Please don’t rely on FaceBook friends of friends for your medical advice!

Looking for something to read? If you have a library card, your local library probably already offers you a download option, but there’s also Overdrive, Project Gutenberg (which has many classics), and the US Library of Congress. These are the times that try men’s souls, so pick up Paine’s pamphlets or perhaps War & Peace, since all you have is time!

Had enough surfing and reading, now you need to DO something? The International Space Station comes round every hour and a half or so. Use this site to track it, then pour yourself a nice glass of wine and go watch it on its next nighttime pass overhead (no telescope needed). Ponder for a moment those brave men and women who willingly go up there to a quarantine of sorts all the time.

Need to be even more active? Here’s a link to the Wall Street Journal’s list of workouts (with more links in it). Wait, you can’t get past the paywall? Anytime you run into that problem, go to this website and input the URL from the blocked page; most times they have an archived copy! And here is Good Housekeeping’s list of free livestream workout classes.

Getting back to your computer, you can become the family historian pretty quickly using Ancestry and checking out Genealogy.com or FamilySearch. Even if all you have is a few names, you’ll quickly be amazed at the data available now online, and better yet, you may be one of the lucky ones whose family has already been researched by some distant relative!

Maybe try out some new/old games? There is a website called Old-games which has thousands of what’s called “abandonware” programs. These are old computer games from as far back as the 1980s that have been updated to run on modern computers and available for download (free if you pick a slow download option, a minimal fee otherwise). Excellent time-killers, and maybe a little nostalgia: I found a game I played on my Commodore 64!

Of course I would be remiss if I didn’t mention all of the religious resources. I am sure every major faith is online in a big way, but for Catholics, there is a site with links to live broadcasts of the Mass in English, as well as the Holy Rosary, and the breviary. Your diocese probably subscribes to Formed, an online network full of movies, documentaries and the like; check with your parish!The Magnificat, an online resource for daily prayers and more, is offering free access during the crisis. Even if you’re spiritual but not religious, just watching these events can help bring your blood pressure down. Try this YouTube selection of Gregorian chant: can’t fail to relax!

Got a gap in your edge-ah-ma-cation? There is probably something you don’t know, or want to learn, at The Great Courses. These cost money, but they are on sale right now! Free courses are available from many sources, such as Harvard, MIT, Coursera, and OpenLearn. No need to certify or stress about the test, but perhaps a way to structure some of your time to a meaningful end.

If you insist on checking out social media, perhaps spend a few minutes first at the home of the media bias chart. This respected resource shows where common media sources lie on a scale of fact vs. propaganda and left vs. right ideology. You may not agree with exactly where they place everything, but rest assured, if you’re reading things way to the left or right–or anything on the bottom of the chart–you’re probably wasting your time.

That’s all for now. Again, please add your ideas/suggestions in the comments!

A short history of Mexico, for Gringos

Back in the day, when I worked for the US federal government, I considered myself pretty well-read on matters of politics and history. Yet I had a glaring gap in knowledge when it came to Mexico: it was the forgotten next-door neighbor, a bit player that popped up once in the middle of the nineteenth century, again at the beginning of the twentieth, but mostly resided in the background. This was how Mexico was portrayed in my childhood education, and still was the way it played out during the Cold War histories north of the border (NOB).

In case my gringo friends suffer from a similar lack, here’s a short recapitulation of Mexican history.

Most everyone knows the region called Mexico today was once the land of several ancient Mesoamerican civilizations: Olmecs and Toltecs, Mayans and Mexica (or Aztecs). All were large, well-organized, purpose-driven (and bloody) societies: Tenochtitlan (now Mexico City) was the largest city in the world in the 14th century. By the time Cortés and his men arrived two hundred years later, they were awed by the huge city constructed on man-made islands!

Everyone knows the Conquistadores arrived, the locals died, and the colony of Nueva España resulted. The ensuing colonial system enriched a ruling class of Peninsulares (Spaniards born in Spain)) and Criollos (Spaniards born in Mexico) and exploited the indigenous peoples and the Mestizos, people of mixed ancestry. All this leads up to the Mexican War of Independence in 1810.

Padre Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla issued his famous call (el grito de dolores) for independence. Even many Mexicans today don’t realize that this call was not against the Spanish crown; Hidalgo defended King Carlos IV, who had recently been deposed by Napoleon (yes, that Napoleon). Hidalgo launched his revolution against the colonial system, believing that if the Spanish king only knew how bad things were in Nueva España, he would fix it. Mexican Independence Day, September 16th, is a huge fiesta when leaders in every town perform a variation on el grito.

While no one knows exactly what “¡Vivas!” Hidalgo called, it worked, and Mexico gained its independence. But only after a bloody war where several armies fought against each other, changed sides, and most of the leaders were captured, tortured, and killed. Peace only came when all sides were exhausted, and the outside power (Spain) became a Republic and lost interest. All-against-all violence to exhaustion becomes one recurring theme of Mexican history.

The general who led the final battle to control Mexico City, Augustín de Iturbide, became Mexico’s first Presidente, although within a year he was emperor! The wartime divisions between Republicans who wanted to liberalize or overthrow the system and Traditionalists who wanted a benign but powerful leader continued unabated, and became the second theme of Mexican history. Within a year, Antonio López de Santa Anna (yes, that Santa Anna) led a Republican force that deposed Iturbide, who fled abroad. Upon returning to Mexico, he was betrayed and executed. Death upon defeat is a third Mexican history theme.

A series of Presidentes followed, while General Santa Anna became famous for defeating a Spanish attempt to regain Mexico. Santa Anna, calling himself “the Napoleon of the West,” served as Presidente twelve times over twenty-two years. Among his misadventures were political moves which instigated the Texas uprising, and the atrocities that forces under his command committed in San Antonio and Goliad, resulting in the permanent loss of Texas. Later he was exiled, only to be welcomed back when the government needed his military skills (a French invasion in 1838) or when he schemed with the US government to sell some Mexican territory (in 1846). The latter became a pretext for the US invasion of Mexico, wherein he unsuccessfully defended Mexico City, lost all of Mexico’s northern lands, and was again exiled. He would survive to return to be Presidentebefore being exiled yet again. Santa Anna was the first of Mexico’s caudillos, military strongmen who became de facto rulers, and another recurring meme of Mexican history.

After a desultory series of battles between Republicans and Traditionalists, Benito Juárez assumed the Presidency in 1858. Juarez was an accomplished lawyer who came from humble indigenous beginnings, mirroring the story of his contemporary Abraham Lincoln up north. He instituted a series of Republican reforms, survived an insurrection against the same (The War of Reform), and resumed his Presidency after a 5 year interlude when France invaded, established a Latin Empire under Maximilian, then was forced to withdraw (you guessed it: Maximilian was executed). Americans already know the most famous battle of that war: an early Mexican army victory over the invading French at Puebla on May 5th, 1862 (hence Cinqo de Mayo).

Juárez’s success in establishing central government authority, separating church and state, and expelling a foreign invader make him a unique hero in Mexican history, and the only individual honored with a national holiday in Mexico (March 21st, his birthday).

In 1876, Porfirio Díaz, a successful general during the War of Reform and the French intervention, overthrew the Presidency upon the principle of no re-election. Ironically, Díaz did step aside after a term, but then returned to rule Mexico for thirty-five years, an era known as the Porfiriato. This period featured autocratic rule by a group of technocrats (called los científicos, or the men of science) who emphasized stability and progress, while doing little to improve the lot of the majority of the people living in poverty.

Such neglect led to the Mexican revolution in 1910, initiated by Francisco Madero and other liberals. The revolution devolved into a bloody civil war, with constitutional armies under Pancho Villa (yes, that Pancho Villa), Álvaro Obregón and Venustiano Carranza, traditionalist forces under General Victoriano Huerta, a peasant army under Emiliano Zapata, and various guerilla groups all fighting one another. After seven bloody years and the death of ten percent of the population, Carranza came out on top and promulgated a new constitution in 1917.

Carranza was succeeded by a series of fellow generals (Obregón and Plutarco Calles), but intrigue, revolt and assassination remained a serious challenge to stability. The new liberal ascendancy continued the tradition of central government control, but in the name of socialist principles on behalf of the people. Strict anti-clerical provisions stripped the Catholic Church of all property and prohibited any religious influences in politics. This led to the brief (1926-29) but violent Cristero rebellion, which left anti-clerical laws on the books but relaxed any enforcement.

To avoid the succession crises which had bedeviled past Mexican administrations, Presidentes were limited to a single term, and the Partido Revolucionario Institucional or PRI became the de facto ruling body of Mexico. The PRI hand-selected leaders for seventy-five years, during a period that included such important events as nationalization of the oil industry and creation of enormous government entities such as CeMex and PeMex, rapid industrialization and population growth, emigration to the United States, and the economic integration brought on by NAFTA.

Starting in 2000, Mexico entered into a true multi-party system, where first the PAN (Partido Acción Nacional) and now Morena (Movimiento Regeneración Nacional) have won elections, as well as the PRI.

In completing this post, I was struck by the parallels with American history, although in most cases the comparison is one of “roads not taken.” T.R. Fehrenbach titles his Mexican history (in inglés) Fire and Blood, for good reason. MesoAmerican prehistory was dependent upon blood-letting. The various Mexican wars of revolution, independence or invasion usually featured betrayals and treachery, leading to postwar reprisals against the losing side. There is a constant tension between a ruling elite based on ethnicity or religion or party and a larger mass of the poor just trying to make ends meet. At times a strong leader emerges who often makes dramatic changes, but sometimes overstays his welcome.

When you see all that Mexico has been through, it seems amazing they have come so far.

Doctors & Dentists

My wife and I bid a fond farewell to January, which saw us cooped up in the casa most of the month, not due to weather, but due to a variety of maladies. It started January 2nd, when I caught a very fast-spreading cold (sore throat, fever, lethargy) which put me down in bed for a week. Just a few days after I recovered, Judy encountered an ensalada contaminada–she literally “et something bad” as we used to say. Food poisoning lasted a good ten days and necessitated a few visits to the doctor/lab, some testing, and verged on a trip to the emergency room for treatment before she got better. And when she got better, I went in for a routine teeth cleaning. I mentioned some dental pain, and that led to two root canals and crowns. Here we sit in February, now returned to health. So what was it like, being sick and out in expat land?

For all the experiences, the costs were much less expensive, as I have noted before. For my over-the-counter (OTC) cold meds, we bought the same things we did in the States: Nyquil and Robitussin and the like, except generally at much less cost. If you’ve ever wondered why the same product is cheaper elsewhere, here’s the the secret. Most of the cost in any medicine is in the research: you need to recoup the cost of creating the medicine, and the cost of all the other medicines your company TRIED to make but didn’t work out. When you get to an approved, functioning medicine, generally the cost of production is low. So while you can set a profit margin of (let’s say) $5 USD on a medicine in the States, no one in a poorer nation will buy it at that markup. BUT, you can set a mark-up of 5 cents on it and sell it and still make money elsewhere. So that’s what they do. It works for all kinds of things beside medicine. As long as you cover your costs, you still make a profit.

Doctors are very approachable and easy to reach. Judy texted (WhatsApp) our doctor on Sunday evening when she had already been sick for three days without improvement. Our doctor responded quickly with a Monday noon appointment. She gave Judy a mild antibiotic and something to address the bowel symptoms (more on that later), but also a sample kit if we needed it later and promised a quick reaction if that didn’t do the trick. When it didn’t, she arranged (again, by text) another, stronger antibiotic. The doctor texted Judy daily to check on her improvement over the following days.

As I already knew, treatments really vary by nation. Here they try to go very light on the antibiotics (as our doctor did with Judy), but when it didn’t get quick improvement, the doctor went straight to ciprofloxacin, the nuclear option of antibiotics. While we use imodium in the States to battle diarrhea, our doctor suggested it was “too strong” and recommended Treda. Seems like Mexicans swear by it, and keep it handy when travelling. I had never heard of it. Turns out Treda is the brand name for a neomycin sulfate compound not used in the US (as far as I can tell). It’s an internal antiseptic used for bowel surgery, with a load of possible side effects. Yet it’s in every Mexican medicine cabinet. It worked for Judy, and was far less extreme than imodium.

In my limited experience, medical professionals here aren’t quite as used to explaining the why and how of what’s going on. I am used to a running dialogue about what they’re doing to me, what they expect to find, what they do find, and what it means. When I went for my teeth cleaning, the dentist told me my teeth looked excellent and she thought my mild tooth pain was probably due to a change in my bite causing two teeth to impact. She filed one down a touch and sent me on way way, with a reminder to come back if I felt any more pain. Two days later, the same teeth were more painful still, so I went back. A different dentist did a quick dental x-ray and told me that both teeth had serious decay under existing fillings. This tracked with what my American dentist had warned me, that someday those teeth, which he filled, would crack or decay and need more treatment, so I was prepared for it.

After some anesthetic, the dentist started drilling out the old fillings to see what she would find. As expected, one tooth probably needed a root canal, the other maybe just a crown. I scheduled a follow up for a day later with the endodontist, who worked on the better tooth but decided to do a root canal on it. He scheduled the other root canal for a week later. So I thought I would have two root canals and be done. But when I arrived in the morning the next week, I learned the endodontist had scheduled two afternoon sessions for crowns, too.

So three appointments in one day. But, at the end of the day, I had no tooth pain and two new crowned, root-canaled teeth. I wish they had been a little more communicative as they went along (all spoke perfect English), but the care and quality were still very good. Total cost for a cleaning, another visit to drill away the old fillings, then the two root canals and two crowns? $14000 MXP, or about $700 USD.

The technology still appears to me to be very advanced. The laboratory clinic sent us a detailed readout by e-mail within six hours. The dental x-rays were all the small hand-held kind with results on a display beside the chair, and saved to my records. The crown was 3D printed on site and installed the same day.

All things considered, pretty routine stuff, especially since we were out in expat land.

Medical costs, up-close & personal

Continuing a theme, here is a real-time update on the quality and cost of medical care for expats in Mexico.

During Judy’s recent annual physical, she realized it was time for that occasional right-of-passage for those of us of a certain age: a colonoscopy. She has had one before, back in the States, and it was as unpleasant as the procedure can be, or at least as the prep can be.

For those unfamiliar (lucky you), the prep involves 24 hours of only clear liquids the day before, ending in several hours of large volumes of water and a choice of prescription laxatives, designed to…ahem…clear the intestines so the doctors can get a clear view. The procedure itself is done under a mild sedation so oftentimes, you don’t remember it at all.

First, Judy and I visited the doctor we were referred to by our regular physician. Note I said”we,” as the doctors here have encouraged us to attend visits as a couple. It seemed odd at first, but we welcome it, as two people can compare notes on what was said. The doctor was very friendly, completely fluent in English, and made sure he had a good patient history during the visit. He talked over some options for location (here at a new hospital in San Antonio Tlayacapan, or up in Guadalajara), gave us a cost sheet (and reminded us NOT to pay more, as this was the cost he negotiated with the hospitals), and explained the schedule and prep. Total cost for this visit: $800 MXP, a little over $40 USD.

The cost of the prep materials at the local farmácia: $487 MXP, or $25 USD. At least the powder had no flavor, but drinking 4 liters in four hours is no fun . . . and the aftermath is torrential!

The hospital–in our small community– is brand-new and squeaky-clean. The day of the procedure, we arrived at 9:30 for our 10:00 appointment. The front office staff–excellent English–processed Judy’s paperwork and gave me the wifi password for the waiting room. Judy left for prep at 9:50 and came back out at 11:10. No issues, no complications, todo bueno. We were on our way to breakfast at 11:30. One interesting difference: in Mexico, you keep your own medical records, so Judy left with a portfolio including photos and other results from her colonoscopy.

She reported that her specialist, doctor Daniel Briseño Garcia, visited with her during prep to answer any questions and see how she was doing. She recalls the anesthesiologist was very familiar with her medical history and had a great sense of humor (all in English). She also remembers some of the support staff speaking Spanish, but that was as she drifted off.

Cost for the doctor and anesthesiologist: $ 6500 MXP, about $350 USD.

Cost for the hospital: $ 4800 MXP, or about $ 260 USD.

Total cost ran under $700 USD. Since our insurance covers us anywhere in the world (most do NOT), our cost will be zero. It’s been awhile since I had one in the States, so I googled costs and it varies between $1,000-3,000 USD, although most forms of insurance cover it there too as an important preventive procedure.

Like anywhere, you get what you pay for (we could have found a cheaper alternative), and you go with the doctors you trust. Overall, a very positive experience.