Mexico

Respect

Posted on by Laughingnomad

Having spent three months in Oregon and Las Vegas, I have become so much more aware of the cultural differences between the north American first world and Mexico.

The first Americans were independent and forward looking. They were looking to expand and were aggressive. Their primary value is freedom and personal space. Mexicans on the other hand were subjugated for hundreds of years by the Spanish. Their primary value is respect.

Whenever a person enters the space of a Mexican individual, for example getting into a taxi, unless you greet them they will feel you are rude. Instead of just jumping in and issuing an order you say “Buenas Tardes, Senor.”

While in a restaurant, any time you pass by a table you say “Buen Provecho.” Any time you want to walk through or pass by people you say “Con Permiso.” Needing a waiter to come to your table you call “Joven!” (Young man) or Senorita (young woman.)

The smiles you get are warm and welcoming. It’s a lovely way to live.

Mexicans and Americans

Posted on by Laughingnomad

LOL

A boat was docked in a tiny Mexican fishing village.

A tourist complimented the local fishermen on the quality of their fish and… asked how long it took to catch them.

“Not very long” they answered in unison.

“Why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?”

The fishermen explained that their small catches were sufficient to meet their needs and those of their families.

“But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

“We sleep late, fish a little, play with our children, and take siestas with our wives. In the evenings, we go into the village to see our friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs.
We have a full life.”

The tourist interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”

“And after that?”

“With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.
Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!!! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise.”

“How long would that take?”

“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years.” replied the tourist.

“And after that?”

“Afterwards? Well my friend, that’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the tourist, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!”

“Millions? Really? And after that?” asked the fishermen.

“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”

“With all due respect sir, but that’s exactly what we are doing now. So what’s the point wasting twenty-five years?” asked the Mexicans.

And the moral of this story is:

Know where you’re going in life, you may already be there!

Found on Facebook

The Ayotzinapa 43

Posted on by Laughingnomad

43 empty seats

43 Normalista (education) students have “disappeared” in Guerrero by narco gangs presumably with the knowledge of the government. Mexico is on fire and is calling for the the President to step down which of course would do no good because the impunity of Mexico is endemic.

Monday the teachers closed down the airport in Oaxaca.

Update Jan 24, 2015: According to my friends, the Zocalo is calm. Blockades daily all around Oaxaca.

I’m In My Glory

Posted on by Laughingnomad

This past week, Ivan, my temporary Italian roomie, who has been living in Oaxaca many years but split with his girlfriend and lost his apartment cooked Pasta Bolognaise for me, Angie and her mom. Angie is the sister of Lumina, my friend who stayed with me for two weeks, with her British boyfriend, a couple years ago on their way back to Ohio to get married. They live now in the UK.

Then the next night this party wasn’t planned. It was a serendipity coming together at the last minute…all at the same time.

Bala, a biochem research scientist, from India but living in the UK and cycling from Alaska to Patagonia, came to me through Warm Showers, a hospitality web site for bicyclers similar to Couchsurfing.

Anita is a couchsurfer from Italy looking for a course in midwifery. Together with Ivan, these two Italians were a riot. My god, if I only had half the energy of these young people!

Sharon is a retired expat friend here in Oaxaca and enjoyed schooling Bala on the history of resistance in Oaxaca and answering his many questions. Sharon and I met on the plane in June 2006 when both of us were coming here to live.

Ksenia is Russian, (playing chess with Ivan) also coming to me through couchsurfing, was born in polar Siberia but has lived and traveled all over the world. She is one bright, funny, aware powerful woman! Loves Pussy Riot and confirmed all my suspicious about Russia today. But Ksenia, who studied chess (chess is taught in Russian schools) from the time she was a young girl, lost 6 chess games in a row to my Italian roomie who has never read a book on chess! She took it with great good humor!

The conversations ranged from geopolitics and economics to mind expansion with the help of 6 bottles of wine and a little herb! All with the requisite laughing and good humor…even the debates.

Then if that weren’t enough to warm my heart, Bala, cooked basmati rice and two curry dishes…for 7 people again the next night! OMG, what a treat!

Took Bala yesterday to the Tlacalula Sunday Market and found some borego (lamb.) Bala will cook lamb curry and fish curry again for tonight.

I have hope for the world.

Am I Mexican? No I am Oaxacan!

Posted on by Laughingnomad

I took a test on FB to see how Mexican I was. 100% Mexican? I guessed at half of them. Most of these questions have to do with northern Mexico or Mexicans who haven’t been in the country for a generation or more. Not southern Mexico which I think is an entirely different country!

You attend every baile in town…that would be impossible

Cowboy boots? No, very worn leather sandals.

Rush home to watch your favorite novella? Don’t have TV and wouldn’t watch novellas if I had one and neither do my Oaxacan friends. They don’t identify with white-skinned “Mexicans” in fancy homes with time on their hands.

Home cooked carne asada and chile rellenos? Sometimes. What local has all day to cook…go to the nearest Comida Corrida for a 4 course $2 mole. Or most often Memelas and Tlayudas on the street.

I do prefer flan and love the taste of horchata. But Tajate is the drink of choice here. Or Jugos.

There are coronas stored in your fridge? People laugh at Coronas here and think they are for tourists. Only Indio, Victoria or Negra Modelo.

Not corridos or bandas…that’s old fashioned! It’s Cumbia all the way if you want traditional and then Cumbia is originally Columbian!

You get angry when they play salsa music in a Mexican restaurant, and are fluent in Spanish? WTF? Salsa classes all over town. Or Cuban Danzon! Or Zumbia for exercise!

You are an avid supporter of immigration reform, and only go to Taco Bell when you don’t feel like cooking? Proves this is a test about people across the border who have no street food. But I remember Roach Coaches there with darned good food!

You have pictures of the Holy Virgin on your wall and take your Catholic faith serious? No way! Only the old ladies…who are only serious about their own private indigenous rituals.

No meal is complete without some Tapatio sauce? No way…only homemade salsa! They don’t like a lot of chile heat here.

You aren’t afraid to blast “Jefe de Jefes” or “El Paisano” by Los Tigres del Norte? Who is that? Lila Downs is the queen! Clubs all play electronic DJ or covers of Mexico City bands like Zoe and Mana. Or Control Machete!

I am not ashamed, I am 100% Oaxacan! lol Well, maybe 99% 😉 I still like my own fried eggs over medium.

Facebook Is Not The Problem

Posted on by Laughingnomad

I love to follow former couchsurfers on Facebook. Paul is one of them.

Everyone is complaining about the same thing and it’s not Facebook. Facebook is not the problem he says. You are.

Paul stayed with me a week in Oaxaca when he was on his way from Utah to Venezuela on his bicycle…his sax in a little wagon behind it. Born in China but raised in Boston, this intelligent and talented guy with dreadlocks is now in a small rural town in Viet Nam where he is establishing a music school for youngsters…The Bamboo School.

My Couchsurfers have added great joy to my life and even more when I get to follow them on Facebook.

All is Transformed

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Frank And Kids In The Zocalo

For nearly 15 years Frank sat at the same table every day in front of a coffee shop in the zocalo…often making friends with passersby, vendors…and especially the children. He had a Ph.d in French Lit but lived the life he wanted…poorly and close to the people.

At 5pm he played chess in front of the cathedral. The players loved him and looked up to him. Ivan, his friend and competitor, organized a chess tournament in Frank’s memory in the Zocalo last night with about 30 players receiving a medal and photo. Thank you Ivan! His ashes will be scattered on Sunday the 26. He was an irascible old goat sometimes but had a big big heart that not everyone saw and I miss him terribly.

As an old Marxist, Frank was a non-believer. The last book he was reading when he died was a book about Einstein. Underneath a framed photo that Ivan gave me of Frank, Ivan had this inscribed:

NADA SE CREA NADA SE DESTRUYE TODO SE TRANSFORMA

NOTHING IS CREATED NOTHING IS DESTROYED ALL IS TRANSFORMED

HASTA SIEMPRE FRANK

Frank Died Last Night

Posted on by Laughingnomad

He was “just” a friend…an eccentric friend…but a good friend with heart. For years he spent $70 a month living here. He sat at the same table in the same coffee shop in the Zocalo every single day with one cup of coffee…then moving in front of the cathedral to play chess with the best players around. If I was ever lonely or wanted company I knew he would be there.

This is a poem he gave to another friend a year ago around his birthday on September 23rd. He knew.

so wonderful the decline
how sweet the lowering
crumbling asundering

ebbing delightfull
sliding toward stilness
unrevelling simply
secretly tumbling
fading along down
reaching under
slipping ever