For anyone who knows me, this won’t come as a surprise. But, I can’t go my whole stay in this beautiful country without somehow addressing “The Donald” and the tornado of complete and utter bullshit that swirls around him. As I enjoyed the Grito (Mexican Independence Day) celebrations, lost in a throng of Mexican nationals, watching men and women in their colorful outfits share their traditional dances, listening to the crowd yell “VIVA!” in response to proclamations from the Municipal President, and seeing fireworks explode over the Caribbean Sea, I found myself thinking about how badly I felt for those in the U.S.—especially supporters of Donald Trump—who will never have a chance to experience the Mexico that I have come to know and love.
There are many ways one could respond to the offensive, racist, and downright disgusting vitriol this man spews on a regular basis. But, I figured one of the best ways to counterbalance the lies he spreads about Mexico and its citizens—including and most especially those citizens who travel to our country seeking the same future my great-grandpa left Italy to find—is to share all of the amazing things that I love about Mexico.
First, and most importantly: THE PEOPLE.
From locals to the ex-pats who have made this their home or are simply bouncing through on their travels around the world, this country is full of some of the most amazing, interesting, and welcoming people you will ever meet. Even with my (extremely) limited Spanish, I have never been made to feel lesser than or treated as an outsider for not speaking the language. Rather than telling me to speak Spanish if I want to live in this country, I have been welcomed into homes, looked after with care, and made new, true friends through conversations in which we have held only a couple words in common.
During one of my first weeks here, I was standing outside my apartment waiting for a taxi to head Centro (downtown). Living in the colonias, taxis that aren’t already full can sometimes be hard to come by in the evening hours without walking to the main road. (Taxis on the island are collective, meaning you are rarely alone in the car and often share it with 3-4 other people.) Finally, an available taxi rolled by and slowed to a stop just near me to drop-off its passenger. The passenger exiting the taxi indicated it was not in-service, that a friend who happened to be an off-duty taxista had just given him a ride. Rather than leaving me to wait for another taxi, the driver leaned out the window to ask where I was headed and offer me a ride there. As we drove to Centro, he engaged me in conversation—using his limited English and my minimal Spanish to talk about everything from where I lived in the U.S. to telling me about his upcoming trip to visit family throughout the Yucatan. After arriving at my destination, I asked the standard, “Cuanto?”—meaning “How much for the ride?” He refused to take my pesos, not even a tip, instead telling me that he enjoyed the chance to make a new friend and to consider this the start of our friendship. Now, tell me where in the United States you could ever find a free taxi ride? Let alone a taxista who will call you “friend” after said free ride and actually mean it?
First, and most importantly: THE PEOPLE.
From locals to the ex-pats who have made this their home or are simply bouncing through on their travels around the world, this country is full of some of the most amazing, interesting, and welcoming people you will ever meet. Even with my (extremely) limited Spanish, I have never been made to feel lesser than or treated as an outsider for not speaking the language. Rather than telling me to speak Spanish if I want to live in this country, I have been welcomed into homes, looked after with care, and made new, true friends through conversations in which we have held only a couple words in common.
During one of my first weeks here, I was standing outside my apartment waiting for a taxi to head Centro (downtown). Living in the colonias, taxis that aren’t already full can sometimes be hard to come by in the evening hours without walking to the main road. (Taxis on the island are collective, meaning you are rarely alone in the car and often share it with 3-4 other people.) Finally, an available taxi rolled by and slowed to a stop just near me to drop-off its passenger. The passenger exiting the taxi indicated it was not in-service, that a friend who happened to be an off-duty taxista had just given him a ride. Rather than leaving me to wait for another taxi, the driver leaned out the window to ask where I was headed and offer me a ride there. As we drove to Centro, he engaged me in conversation—using his limited English and my minimal Spanish to talk about everything from where I lived in the U.S. to telling me about his upcoming trip to visit family throughout the Yucatan. After arriving at my destination, I asked the standard, “Cuanto?”—meaning “How much for the ride?” He refused to take my pesos, not even a tip, instead telling me that he enjoyed the chance to make a new friend and to consider this the start of our friendship. Now, tell me where in the United States you could ever find a free taxi ride? Let alone a taxista who will call you “friend” after said free ride and actually mean it?
Recently, I was invited to celebrate the birthday of mi amigo, Luis, one of the staff members at the hotel where I stay with my family during our annual vacations. I have known Luis now for three years, and he has an infectious smile and one of the friendliest, funniest personalities. The birthday gathering took place in the home of Luis’ parents, who were there along with his wife and daughter, his sister-in-law and her family, his godmother, and a neighborhood friend. Only Luis and his neighborhood friend spoke English, and the friend took great delight in trying to teach me dirty words in Spanish. Even though I understood little of the conversation around me, it felt just like being with my own family. Here I was, a white girl in a Mexican home; yet, no one derided me for not speaking “their language”. Instead, I was stuffed full of delicious ceviche, mangos and jicama, and a Mexican version of caviar—fried fish eggs. With Luis translating, I was asked about my family, my business, and my experience with buying and eating cochinita pibil for the first time. Once his dad found out that I was single, he even joked about wanting to switch wives for me! Overall, I—a foreign stranger—was made to feel WELCOME in spite of my difference, a sense of hospitality and openness which our country so desperately needs to learn.
Over the course of this past week, I have been working with a local artist who specializes in batiks and custom artwork to purchase gifts for friends and family. His name is Sergio, and he has one of the biggest hearts and kindest souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not only is his work unique and simply breathtaking, the way in which he deals with adversity in his life is nothing short of inspiring. Although Sergio has only one leg, you can regularly find him riding his bike around the island or climbing ladders to create murals for homeowners. His housing situation is something many of us in the U.S. could never begin to imagine, yet he proudly invited me to visit him there during my next trip to the island. After learning my name, he excitedly told me I was his first and only friend to have the name, Natasha—gushing about how fitting it was for a beautiful girl like me. As I watched him ride away on his bike, I couldn’t stop thinking about his proclamation of me being his first friend with the name, Natasha. FRIEND. What would our country look like if we actually looked at each stranger we meet as a potential new friend (and meant it)?
Second, MANANA.
And by manana, I mean the pace of life. In the U.S. we are always trying to do more and earn more. We value “money over everything”, including our health, our family, and our friends. Success is viewed as having the biggest and the best, the biggest house, the best job, the newest car, the most “stuff”. We spend our days worrying about what we can get tomorrow rather than enjoying what we have in the present. In Mexico, I have come to find that “manana” doesn’t always mean tomorrow. It simply means “when it happens”—an attitude that lends to an enjoyment of life as it is, one in which family, friends, and beautiful sunsets are never taken for granted. Personal wealth is measured not in terms of what is owned, but what is enjoyed. Rather than rushing to bed to prepare for the next day of work, time is spent conversing with neighbors or playing a late night game of soccer. Nobody bustles past each other on the street, there is always time for a smile and “Buenos Dias”. Mornings start slowly, with a stop at a loncheria for breakfast or a moto ride to drop the kids off at school. Each day is lived as it comes, even in the face of adversity or struggle. If it can’t be taken care of today, have a cerveza, love your friends and family, and wait for manana. What would our society look like if we actually took time to talk with our neighbors? If we valued our time with family more than the things we buy? If we learned to take life as it comes rather than rushing through it in constant search of something more?
Third, FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.
Second, MANANA.
And by manana, I mean the pace of life. In the U.S. we are always trying to do more and earn more. We value “money over everything”, including our health, our family, and our friends. Success is viewed as having the biggest and the best, the biggest house, the best job, the newest car, the most “stuff”. We spend our days worrying about what we can get tomorrow rather than enjoying what we have in the present. In Mexico, I have come to find that “manana” doesn’t always mean tomorrow. It simply means “when it happens”—an attitude that lends to an enjoyment of life as it is, one in which family, friends, and beautiful sunsets are never taken for granted. Personal wealth is measured not in terms of what is owned, but what is enjoyed. Rather than rushing to bed to prepare for the next day of work, time is spent conversing with neighbors or playing a late night game of soccer. Nobody bustles past each other on the street, there is always time for a smile and “Buenos Dias”. Mornings start slowly, with a stop at a loncheria for breakfast or a moto ride to drop the kids off at school. Each day is lived as it comes, even in the face of adversity or struggle. If it can’t be taken care of today, have a cerveza, love your friends and family, and wait for manana. What would our society look like if we actually took time to talk with our neighbors? If we valued our time with family more than the things we buy? If we learned to take life as it comes rather than rushing through it in constant search of something more?
Third, FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.
No post about loving life in Mexico would be complete without mentioning the food. Everywhere you look on the island, there is food. The cocina economicas spread throughout the colonias; mobile fruit, ice cream, and bread sold off the back and front of motos; and the vendors who sell their homemade snacks and treats in front of the supermarket or at the town square. Eating down here reminds me of sitting in the kitchens of my mom and grandmas. Food is not simply food. It is a work of love. My favorite place to eat on the island is called La Lomita. I go there every Friday night after first “living manana” and watching the sun dip slowly into the ocean. It is a cute, little loncheria located on the hill of one of my favorite streets, where motos and cars drive slowly past and the breeze and saltiness from the ocean hangs in the air. I sit outside and order my regular meal, a small bowl of queso fundido with homemade corn tortillas and a plate of cerdo de yucateca (pork in the style of Yucatan) with bean soup and rice. One of the restaurant owners regularly busts out in song while cooking in the kitchen or serving customers, the sound of his deep voice flowing out to the street. The food is not only delicious, it is also affordable. I get enough food for a big dinner and lunch the next day for less than 180 pesos (12 dollars). And it is fresh. Made to order and with limited preservatives. This is a country where a man on a moto rides through the neighborhoods each night, honking his horn, and selling fresh bread. Where you can walk into a carcineria at any time and actually see your meat being carved off an animal. And, where locals stand in line every Saturday morning for cochinita pibil, a slow-roasted Mayan pork dish marinated in citrus juice. While childhood obesity is a problem throughout Mexico, it is mainly contributable to the junk food and soda that have been imported from the U.S. (Gee, imagine that!)
There are many other things I love about Mexico. The way the water truck drives through the streets playing jingles like an ice cream truck to alert customers to its presence. How entire families pile onto one moto and riders balance everything from fish to construction materials to large electronics on their laps. The love for queso de bola paired with sweet desserts. (Yes, you read that right. Cheese in your sweets.) The way parents come to school in the middle of the day to bring their kids lunch or buy them a treat from one of the vendors.
This is the Mexico I know. Not the one full of rapists, criminals, or other the other unseemly characters that “The Donald” so loves to cite in his political circus act. Does Mexico have its problems? Yes. But, what country doesn’t? (Yes, I'm looking at you, United States.) We live in a country built on the violation of human rights, where American Indians are still having their land and lives stolen, where black men and women are routinely brutalized and gunned down by police, where thousands of women are raped yearly with impunity, where child molesters receive five years in prison and those selling marijuana are sentenced to life, and where those with political connections and personal wealth are rarely held accountable. And yet, somehow, we still feel justified in sitting back, pointing our fingers at others, and calling them the monsters.
Sadly, there was a time when I thought the same of Mexico. That it was “too dangerous” for travel or that its tourist destinations were nothing but Vegas-like parties. I honestly couldn’t have been further from the truth. I will always be grateful for the time I have been able to spend in this beautiful country and for the people of Mexico who have opened their homes to me, cared for me like one of their own, and treated me as a friend rather than a stranger.
That is what I love about Mexico. And because I love it so much, I couldn’t resist ending this post without another appropriate response to “The Donald”. (Sorry, grandma. I had to do it!)
There are many other things I love about Mexico. The way the water truck drives through the streets playing jingles like an ice cream truck to alert customers to its presence. How entire families pile onto one moto and riders balance everything from fish to construction materials to large electronics on their laps. The love for queso de bola paired with sweet desserts. (Yes, you read that right. Cheese in your sweets.) The way parents come to school in the middle of the day to bring their kids lunch or buy them a treat from one of the vendors.
This is the Mexico I know. Not the one full of rapists, criminals, or other the other unseemly characters that “The Donald” so loves to cite in his political circus act. Does Mexico have its problems? Yes. But, what country doesn’t? (Yes, I'm looking at you, United States.) We live in a country built on the violation of human rights, where American Indians are still having their land and lives stolen, where black men and women are routinely brutalized and gunned down by police, where thousands of women are raped yearly with impunity, where child molesters receive five years in prison and those selling marijuana are sentenced to life, and where those with political connections and personal wealth are rarely held accountable. And yet, somehow, we still feel justified in sitting back, pointing our fingers at others, and calling them the monsters.
Sadly, there was a time when I thought the same of Mexico. That it was “too dangerous” for travel or that its tourist destinations were nothing but Vegas-like parties. I honestly couldn’t have been further from the truth. I will always be grateful for the time I have been able to spend in this beautiful country and for the people of Mexico who have opened their homes to me, cared for me like one of their own, and treated me as a friend rather than a stranger.
That is what I love about Mexico. And because I love it so much, I couldn’t resist ending this post without another appropriate response to “The Donald”. (Sorry, grandma. I had to do it!)