Michael and I moved to Quintana Roo, Mexico 3 years ago today. Here are some things I’ve learned, some things I’ve noticed, and some things I love about life in the land of the Maya.
1. Things really do move at a different pace here, on Mexican time. Mañana doesn’t really mean tomorrow, it just means “not today.” The same thing can be said for “ahora,” which doesn’t really mean “right now.” Ahora can mean 10 minutes, 2 hours, or sometime today. “Ahorita,” the charming Mexican term that literally translates as “little now,” is supposed to mean “right now,” but doesn’t always mean that. At first I found it very frustrating to be kept waiting at appointments or social meetings, but now I’ve embraced it fully. I roll in to work at 9-ish. Party starts at 8 pm? See you at 9. Now that things are much busier in Playa business-wise, the American/European influence is creeping in slowly and things are starting to get more timely. I applied for internet last week on a Wednesday and they told me the technician would be out the next day between 2 and 6 pm. Riiight, I thought. Imagine my surprise when the technician showed up as promised at 4 pm and I had internet by 5 pm. When this part of Mexico strays too far away from the concept of “mañana,” I might just have to move someplace quieter.
2. Americans have a misconceived idea about the institution of the siesta. For Americans, sleeping in the middle of the day would be unheard of and this attitude, I suspect, is what has given rise to the cliché of the lazy Mexican sleeping in the sun under a sombrero. First of all, don’t you believe it: Mexicans are some of the hardest working people I’ve ever met. Second, the siesta, usually from 2-4 pm, is during the hottest time of the day, and traditionally families get together for the biggest and most important meal of the day. They linger over their large meal, laughing, chatting about the day, then sometimes have a short nap before returning to work until 8 pm or later in some cases. This genteel tradition also seems an endangered species in my area. I used to get frustrated when I’d go to a store and find it closed in the middle of the day. Now that I understand WHY they used to be closed in the middle of the day, buying a print cartridge in the middle of day doesn’t seem so important.
3. While I’m on a similar subject, let’s talk about the Mexican work week. Most Mexicans work 6 days a week, with a minimum of 8 hours a day, with many people working 12 hours (usually a half day on Saturday). I believe the Mexican minimum wage is around 45 pesos per DAY, or about 4.30 usd, for an entire day of labor. There are provisions for overtime and holiday pay, but these aren’t always adhered to and the poorest unskilled worker won’t rock the boat and risk losing his job. A good friend of mine, who is educated and professional, has a job here and makes 6,000 pesos per month, which is about 571 usd per month. I try to bear these things in mind when I sometimes encounter poor customer service, shoddy products, or poor attitudes. What incentive have any of these workers to care about their jobs? I think I’d do the bare minimum myself, if that was how I was being compensated for my job.
4. All those depressing stats aside, most Mexicans I know are happy, joyful people who grab onto their free time with a zest for life and fun that should be more contagious than it has proved to be for me. My Mexican friends treasure their families above all else and have parties on Sundays with food, music, booze, and kids running everywhere. I am reminded of the Mexican Folk Art of the Day of the Dead, which are dioramas of skeletons going about the business of the living: doctors, teachers, musicians, etc. For me, these dioramas are a reminder that we are all terminal…that you only have this moment to live; may be a cliché, but it’s a tangible message here.
This blog is getting too long. If anyone finds it interesting, I’ll keep up with it.
OH, another thing I learned about living here: don’t leave a brand new bag of Gummi Cola bottles on the front seat of a closed car for 4 hours in the middle of the day. I didn’t even know you could melt gummi. I put it in the fridge and it solidified into a giant lump that tasted good, but was so hard to chew I almost choked to death. Fortunately, Franky and Vinnie know how to perform a Heimlich.
