Posts
Since this is the 11th issue of The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report I thought we would review in case you are just joining us and are wondering who is this nut claiming to be The Most Hated Gringo in the World.
Well, I am not so much claiming anything as I am accepting my title like a brave little soldier. Five years or so ago the wife and I moved to a little city in the Mexican highlands called, Guanajuato. Three years prior to coming we spent almost every weekend of our lives at the local bookstore sipping White Café Mochas and reading all the material we possible could, (without getting thrown out of Barnes and Noble), on the issue of expatriating to Mexico.
Knowing we would be thrown all manner of cultural loops and that we would have mishaps galore, we jumped the border with one primary goal in mind: Learn Spanish.
In our pre-expat research, we decided that the only logical survival skill we needed to pursue, at first, was mastering the language. The thought of not doing so never entered our minds.
If Spanish is the Portal to the Mexican Culture, and if were moving to Mexico for love of culture, then the language was our primary objective.
What we absolutely did NOT anticipate was the plethora of Disneylands, oh…wait, Gringolandias, oh… wait, enclaves, oh… wait, Cultural Imperialists…well, you get the idea. We had no clue that there would be literally thousands of Gringos in this country who, for the vast majority, would not have enough skill in the language to literally save their lives if it came to that.
Furthermore, another issue we never encountered in our pre-expat research was that we would see the clearest and most salient examples of Cultural Imperialism. I mean, I had an academic idea what Culture Imperialism was but never did I suspect I would see this and in some towns, happening on a daily basis.
"Cultural imperialism is the practice of promoting, distinguishing, separating, or artificially injecting the culture or language of one nation into another." – From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The problem arose when I dared to begin to write about this phenomenon and how that if you intend to call yourself an expat that perhaps you should actually live in the culture and speak the language of the culture in which you claim to have expatriated.
It is astounding that there can be more than 14,000 Gringos living in a city of about 75,000 Mexicans and not live in the culture the Gringolandians claim to love and champion.
A bilingual Mexican woman told me she was at a party where she was the only bilingual. The rest were Gringos. Finally, the woman blurted out at the Gringos have had been living in this Gringolandia town literally for years,
"Why is it none of you speak my language? Is there something inferior about it?"
I am not talking perfection of linguistic skill here, folks. I am talking about at least an ardent desire that moves one to obtaining the keys to the culture of which the vast majority of Gringolandians have none. I am talking about a persistence of will and determination to learn the only thing that will give you the ability to assimilate into the culture: Spanish. If you are not even in the fight, the battle, then how can you call yourself anything but a Cultural Imperialist? You are not an Expat!
So, I suspect you can see why I routinely get death threats from Gringos in these Gringo Enclaves who resent my breathing air in Mexico and who have literally wished me death.
Disclaimer: I do not always get death threats. Mostly I get threats of having the "you-know-what" beaten out of me if the Gringo catches me on the streets of Guanajuato. These come through anonymous emails and "reader's comments" on the online articles I write—also equally anonymous.
(Does lack of character, ethics, or morals come to mind here?)
###
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Thursday, July 31, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Free or Cheap Things to Do in Guanajuato, Mexico
By
Cindi Bower
Guanajuato, Mexico is an important colonial town with much to see and experience. Fortunately for those on a budget, Guanajuato offers many free or cheap things to do to make your vacation fun.
Get a map of Guanajuato from the tourist office and take a walking tour of the historic center. The map indicates museums, churches, plazas, and other places of interest. Be sure to take a look at the grand houses surrounding both the Jardín de la Unión and Plaza de la Paz. These were built by the wealthy owners of the silver mines found in the mountains surrounding Guanajuato. Some of the buildings have plaques with information about their histories. The map is free. The only cost is a good pair of walking shoes, strong legs, and a strong heart. If you are not accustomed to a high altitude, take it easy for a day or two before trying to climb Guanajuato's many steep streets and alleys.
Guanajuato has a number of beautiful churches, many in the center of town. All are free, though all would appreciate a small donation toward the upkeep. The Basilica of Our Lady of Guanajuato (the large yellow church in Plaza de la Paz across from the tourist office) has a statue that was given to the City of Guanajuato by King Charles I of Spain in 1557 in thanks for the immense amount of silver that enriched the King's coffers. Legend says the statue was carved in the eighth century then was hidden in a cave for 800 years to keep it out of the hands of the Moors who had invaded Spain. The San Diego Church, across from the Jardín de la Unión, is currently undergoing a restoration of the interior. It is much brighter than in years past and the subjects of the many paintings are again evident. The wealthy owner of the Rayas mine and his family members are buried in a side chapel.
Guanajuato has several interesting museums. The Mummy Museum is the most expensive at 50 pesos. It provides a unique, if ghoulish, experience. The Alhóndiga de Granaditas, originally built to buy, sell, and store grain, was also used as a military barracks and a prison. Now, it houses a regional museum displaying pre-Columbian artifacts, colonial history, and art. Dramatic murals by Guanajuato native José Chávez Morado adorn the stairways. Entry is 30 pesos. Other museums include the Diego Rivera House and Museum (the artist was born in Guanajuato and lived in this house for the first few years of his life), the Museum of the City of Guanajuato, and the Don Quijote Museum (free on Sundays).
Go on a callejoneada through the streets of Guanajuato. Groups of students (called estudiantinas) dressed in 17th-century Spanish costumes lead tourists and locals alike around some of Guanajuato's Callejóns (alleys). They sing popular songs and recount some of Guanajuato's legends. These walking serenades usually occur on weekends and holidays and begin around 8 p.m. in front of the San Diego Church across from the Jardín de la Unión. The tour is free.
If you are fit, you can climb to the Pipila statue that overlooks downtown Guanajuato. One block to the east of the Jardín de la Unión (face Teatro Juárez and turn left) are steps that lead up to the statue. For those who don't want to make the climb, there is a funicular (tram) that runs up the side of the mountain. The ticket office is located behind Teatro Juárez next to the tunnel opening. The cost is around 20 pesos. Standing at the base of the statue gives you a panoramic view of Guanajuato.
Sit in one of Guanajuato's plazas and watch the people. This is a free, but fun activity enjoyed by many of the city's residents. If you sit on the steps of Teatro Juárez, you might see a mime or clowns perform. In the Jardín de la Unión, you can listen to wandering mariachis in the evenings or listen to a concert most Sundays at noon.
See a movie. Every Wednesday afternoon at 5, there is a free movie at the Olga Costa-José Chávez Morado home/museum. The University of Guanajuato has a Cine Club that offers several showings per week for $30 pesos. First-run movies, most dubbed in Spanish, can be seen at Guanajuato's three multi-screen theaters.
These are just a few of the free or cheap attractions Guanajuato has to offer. Check with the tourist office or with your hotel desk clerk for events that are scheduled during your stay.
Have a wonderful time!
###
FREE 6-Day Spanish Course!
Cindi Bower
Guanajuato, Mexico is an important colonial town with much to see and experience. Fortunately for those on a budget, Guanajuato offers many free or cheap things to do to make your vacation fun.
Get a map of Guanajuato from the tourist office and take a walking tour of the historic center. The map indicates museums, churches, plazas, and other places of interest. Be sure to take a look at the grand houses surrounding both the Jardín de la Unión and Plaza de la Paz. These were built by the wealthy owners of the silver mines found in the mountains surrounding Guanajuato. Some of the buildings have plaques with information about their histories. The map is free. The only cost is a good pair of walking shoes, strong legs, and a strong heart. If you are not accustomed to a high altitude, take it easy for a day or two before trying to climb Guanajuato's many steep streets and alleys.
Guanajuato has a number of beautiful churches, many in the center of town. All are free, though all would appreciate a small donation toward the upkeep. The Basilica of Our Lady of Guanajuato (the large yellow church in Plaza de la Paz across from the tourist office) has a statue that was given to the City of Guanajuato by King Charles I of Spain in 1557 in thanks for the immense amount of silver that enriched the King's coffers. Legend says the statue was carved in the eighth century then was hidden in a cave for 800 years to keep it out of the hands of the Moors who had invaded Spain. The San Diego Church, across from the Jardín de la Unión, is currently undergoing a restoration of the interior. It is much brighter than in years past and the subjects of the many paintings are again evident. The wealthy owner of the Rayas mine and his family members are buried in a side chapel.
Guanajuato has several interesting museums. The Mummy Museum is the most expensive at 50 pesos. It provides a unique, if ghoulish, experience. The Alhóndiga de Granaditas, originally built to buy, sell, and store grain, was also used as a military barracks and a prison. Now, it houses a regional museum displaying pre-Columbian artifacts, colonial history, and art. Dramatic murals by Guanajuato native José Chávez Morado adorn the stairways. Entry is 30 pesos. Other museums include the Diego Rivera House and Museum (the artist was born in Guanajuato and lived in this house for the first few years of his life), the Museum of the City of Guanajuato, and the Don Quijote Museum (free on Sundays).
Go on a callejoneada through the streets of Guanajuato. Groups of students (called estudiantinas) dressed in 17th-century Spanish costumes lead tourists and locals alike around some of Guanajuato's Callejóns (alleys). They sing popular songs and recount some of Guanajuato's legends. These walking serenades usually occur on weekends and holidays and begin around 8 p.m. in front of the San Diego Church across from the Jardín de la Unión. The tour is free.
If you are fit, you can climb to the Pipila statue that overlooks downtown Guanajuato. One block to the east of the Jardín de la Unión (face Teatro Juárez and turn left) are steps that lead up to the statue. For those who don't want to make the climb, there is a funicular (tram) that runs up the side of the mountain. The ticket office is located behind Teatro Juárez next to the tunnel opening. The cost is around 20 pesos. Standing at the base of the statue gives you a panoramic view of Guanajuato.
Sit in one of Guanajuato's plazas and watch the people. This is a free, but fun activity enjoyed by many of the city's residents. If you sit on the steps of Teatro Juárez, you might see a mime or clowns perform. In the Jardín de la Unión, you can listen to wandering mariachis in the evenings or listen to a concert most Sundays at noon.
See a movie. Every Wednesday afternoon at 5, there is a free movie at the Olga Costa-José Chávez Morado home/museum. The University of Guanajuato has a Cine Club that offers several showings per week for $30 pesos. First-run movies, most dubbed in Spanish, can be seen at Guanajuato's three multi-screen theaters.
These are just a few of the free or cheap attractions Guanajuato has to offer. Check with the tourist office or with your hotel desk clerk for events that are scheduled during your stay.
Have a wonderful time!
###
FREE 6-Day Spanish Course!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Mexican Living - Bus Travel Mexican Style
When I was in college, in the prehistoric days, I was a veteran bus traveler. I am not talking about the city buses but the kind you would take from city "A" to city "B" three states apart.
You know the kind of which I speak. I am talking about the long-distance ones that smelled not unlike you were stepping into an ashtray on wheels. There was always the peculiar smell of cigarettes, beer, and that nursing home smell that you encountered when you went to visit your 900-year-old aunt.
The seats in those nastiness-on-wheels buses were positively nightmarish. I still dream about them. I think I suffer from (among many things) a post-traumatic bus-seat stress disorder. Those seats were little butt seats. I mean you had to have the butt of a 10-year-old dwarf child to sit comfortably in them! And, if you were lucky, there would be some duct tape covering the hole where someone smuggled drugs or where there was a spring ready to impale one of your butt cheeks.
The floors! My God, the floors! There was always something sticky covering the floors and they were a necrotic-tissue color--black. I am positive they contributed to the assortment of smells that wafted into your nostrils on entering the bus. The bathrooms in those buses were virtually impossible to use. If you managed to drop your britches to use the toilet and sit down, you were assured of a skull fracture from being propelled off the thing as though someone suddenly jerked the toilet up and forward when the bus driver (probably drunk) accelerated. Once, I had to take a bus from Clarksville, Arkansas, to York, Pennsylvania, for Christmas break. The trip, boring and tiring as it was, wasn't that bad and we were making good time. I was going to have to spend three days, count them, three days traveling in a bus.
Well, somewhere in Tennessee, I think, the bus driver decided to stop somewhere in the middle of the night for a bite to eat. It was, as I said, in the middle of the night and while we all slept he took a little extra time to do God only knows what. His little rest stop put us late getting into somewhere (I forget) which caused me to miss my connection. In addition, it was snowing, delaying the next bus I could have taken. I had to spend two days in a bus station, with no hotel money, waiting for the worst snowstorm in the history of mankind to clear up so the appropriate bus could get there.
I called my parents and made them swear they would fly me back to Arkansas after Christmas should I survive this ordeal. That was the last time I ever rode a bus in America.
Now come with me to Mexico: My wife and I went to Puerto Vallarta for Christmas, 2004. We took the ENT bus line. This thing was, and I swear to you, like the first-class section of the most expensive airline only magnified to the power of 1000. As you got on, they served a lunch and drink. There was a galley for your tea or coffee pleasure. There were two bathrooms in that bus. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? The seats were big-butt seats, like on a first-class airline, and were actually comfortable to sleep in. There were private headphones for music or for watching the movie. You heard right-the bus had video screens for a movie!
Get this: They insolated the bus walls because you could hear nothing from outside the bus.
Can you begin to fathom how a so-called third world country can offer this most astounding bus traveling experience while the United States-developed country?-still offers (so I am told) basically the same torture that I suffered in the 70's?
Mexican Living Print and eBooks - What You Need To Know When Traveling or Planning To Live in Mexico.
You know the kind of which I speak. I am talking about the long-distance ones that smelled not unlike you were stepping into an ashtray on wheels. There was always the peculiar smell of cigarettes, beer, and that nursing home smell that you encountered when you went to visit your 900-year-old aunt.
The seats in those nastiness-on-wheels buses were positively nightmarish. I still dream about them. I think I suffer from (among many things) a post-traumatic bus-seat stress disorder. Those seats were little butt seats. I mean you had to have the butt of a 10-year-old dwarf child to sit comfortably in them! And, if you were lucky, there would be some duct tape covering the hole where someone smuggled drugs or where there was a spring ready to impale one of your butt cheeks.
The floors! My God, the floors! There was always something sticky covering the floors and they were a necrotic-tissue color--black. I am positive they contributed to the assortment of smells that wafted into your nostrils on entering the bus. The bathrooms in those buses were virtually impossible to use. If you managed to drop your britches to use the toilet and sit down, you were assured of a skull fracture from being propelled off the thing as though someone suddenly jerked the toilet up and forward when the bus driver (probably drunk) accelerated. Once, I had to take a bus from Clarksville, Arkansas, to York, Pennsylvania, for Christmas break. The trip, boring and tiring as it was, wasn't that bad and we were making good time. I was going to have to spend three days, count them, three days traveling in a bus.
Well, somewhere in Tennessee, I think, the bus driver decided to stop somewhere in the middle of the night for a bite to eat. It was, as I said, in the middle of the night and while we all slept he took a little extra time to do God only knows what. His little rest stop put us late getting into somewhere (I forget) which caused me to miss my connection. In addition, it was snowing, delaying the next bus I could have taken. I had to spend two days in a bus station, with no hotel money, waiting for the worst snowstorm in the history of mankind to clear up so the appropriate bus could get there.
I called my parents and made them swear they would fly me back to Arkansas after Christmas should I survive this ordeal. That was the last time I ever rode a bus in America.
Now come with me to Mexico: My wife and I went to Puerto Vallarta for Christmas, 2004. We took the ENT bus line. This thing was, and I swear to you, like the first-class section of the most expensive airline only magnified to the power of 1000. As you got on, they served a lunch and drink. There was a galley for your tea or coffee pleasure. There were two bathrooms in that bus. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT? The seats were big-butt seats, like on a first-class airline, and were actually comfortable to sleep in. There were private headphones for music or for watching the movie. You heard right-the bus had video screens for a movie!
Get this: They insolated the bus walls because you could hear nothing from outside the bus.
Can you begin to fathom how a so-called third world country can offer this most astounding bus traveling experience while the United States-developed country?-still offers (so I am told) basically the same torture that I suffered in the 70's?
Mexican Living Print and eBooks - What You Need To Know When Traveling or Planning To Live in Mexico.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Mexico - Let's Go to the Movies!
I love going to the movies. I always have. I can remember the highlight of every Saturday while growing up was when my Dad would give us all 25 cents and off we would go to some movie that was playing at the Dickenson.
I still love movie going. I love the whole experience even if the movie isn't good. I love the getting there, the buying of the gut-rotting crap from the concession stand, finding seats, waiting for the lights to go out. Well, you get the idea.
Movie going in Mexico isn't much different from going in the United States. We try to hit as many movies as we can.
When we first moved to Mexico, a lawyer friend asked me if I would miss going to the movies. Can you believe that he thought we would not have movies here? (Don't get me started on educated Americans' misconceptions about Mexico!) We, in fact, get major releases here just as you do in America. They are in English, usually, and with Spanish subtitles.
I have this "thing" about going to the movies that you might find a little strange. Then again, you might not. I believe that when someone takes the time and money to go to a movie that this implies a certain set of presuppositions:
1) Get there and get seated BEFORE the movie starts.
2) Stop talking once the previews are over and watch the movie.
3) Do not have family discussions or picnics during the movie.
4) Don't do anything that would distract someone else from watching the movie.
5) If you cannot keep your hands off each other, please don't spend your money on the movie but on a hotel room.
6) Unless you are a doctor, lawyer, or judge, turn off the damn cell phones BEFORE the movie starts.
Now you might regard these six items as a little over-the-top. However, I feel that "going to the movies" means you are taking the time and spending the money to watch something that someone, somewhere, decided would be good entertainment.
Nevertheless, just how can you take advantage of this marvel if you decide right in the middle of the film to whip out the cell phone and cause an eerie blue glow to light up the entire darkened movie theater? If you aren't a doctor, is your life that important that you just have to take a call in the middle of a movie? Moreover, if it is, why can't you leave the theater to do so?
I don't get this at all!
And I suppose that some people think when the lights go out, no matter where you may be, that this is a trigger to start engaging in foreplay right in front of others! This always happens. My God, give it a rest people!
Back to the cell phone crap: Once we were in this movie when I noticed an eerie blue glow coming from across the aisle and to the right of where my wife and I were seated. I thought, "Oh my God what is there that is about to devour us all?" (We were watching some horror film and I tend to get caught up in these, don't you know.)
So, I looked over to see what was happening. The glow was caused by an entire row of college-age students, all with cell phones in hand, playing games and sending instant messages.
This is an evil plot by cell phone companies. They weren't content to rule the minds of American youth but they had to come to Mexico, of all places, and convince the Mexican youth that their lives have been incomplete and without meaning because they didn't have cell phones.
Besides, they ruined my movie going!
I still love movie going. I love the whole experience even if the movie isn't good. I love the getting there, the buying of the gut-rotting crap from the concession stand, finding seats, waiting for the lights to go out. Well, you get the idea.
Movie going in Mexico isn't much different from going in the United States. We try to hit as many movies as we can.
When we first moved to Mexico, a lawyer friend asked me if I would miss going to the movies. Can you believe that he thought we would not have movies here? (Don't get me started on educated Americans' misconceptions about Mexico!) We, in fact, get major releases here just as you do in America. They are in English, usually, and with Spanish subtitles.
I have this "thing" about going to the movies that you might find a little strange. Then again, you might not. I believe that when someone takes the time and money to go to a movie that this implies a certain set of presuppositions:
1) Get there and get seated BEFORE the movie starts.
2) Stop talking once the previews are over and watch the movie.
3) Do not have family discussions or picnics during the movie.
4) Don't do anything that would distract someone else from watching the movie.
5) If you cannot keep your hands off each other, please don't spend your money on the movie but on a hotel room.
6) Unless you are a doctor, lawyer, or judge, turn off the damn cell phones BEFORE the movie starts.
Now you might regard these six items as a little over-the-top. However, I feel that "going to the movies" means you are taking the time and spending the money to watch something that someone, somewhere, decided would be good entertainment.
Nevertheless, just how can you take advantage of this marvel if you decide right in the middle of the film to whip out the cell phone and cause an eerie blue glow to light up the entire darkened movie theater? If you aren't a doctor, is your life that important that you just have to take a call in the middle of a movie? Moreover, if it is, why can't you leave the theater to do so?
I don't get this at all!
And I suppose that some people think when the lights go out, no matter where you may be, that this is a trigger to start engaging in foreplay right in front of others! This always happens. My God, give it a rest people!
Back to the cell phone crap: Once we were in this movie when I noticed an eerie blue glow coming from across the aisle and to the right of where my wife and I were seated. I thought, "Oh my God what is there that is about to devour us all?" (We were watching some horror film and I tend to get caught up in these, don't you know.)
So, I looked over to see what was happening. The glow was caused by an entire row of college-age students, all with cell phones in hand, playing games and sending instant messages.
This is an evil plot by cell phone companies. They weren't content to rule the minds of American youth but they had to come to Mexico, of all places, and convince the Mexican youth that their lives have been incomplete and without meaning because they didn't have cell phones.
Besides, they ruined my movie going!
Friday, July 25, 2008
Dear Amazon.com:
It is a profoundly unfair and antiquated practice to allow the hundreds of thousands of "Reader's Reviews" to be posted online, willy-nilly, without a more careful way of monitoring them.
I've written you before as an author with several books online and have always gotten the answer that Amazon.com wants a forum for readers to post their views.
However, what your system allows is a forum for people to vent, rage, rant, lie, and if the truth be known, they haven't even read the books they claim they have read. How can there be thousands of "Reader's Reviews" of a book BEFORE the book has even made an appearance, which has happened on more than one occasion? Popular and controversial authors will have literally thousands of posts in the "Reader's Reviews" section before the book has hit the shelves of bookstores. These are, therefore, not reviews at all but a raging screed.
I get the same thing and I am a relatively unknown author. Because I write of the controversial practice of Americans committing CULTURAL IMPERIALISM in the Gringolandias they form in Mexico as "Fakepats," I get Americans who live in those Mexican towns who have never read the books sending me such harmful comments. The most popular comments are the ones that accuse me of "Self-Publishing." They level these claims against my first two books and the claims are absolutely false.
Why would Amazon.com allow such a thing to go on and on if what you, the company, want to do is sell books? Mindlessly, most buyers will believe these idiotic claims and not buy the book, thus diminishing my income. And, incomprehensibly, with no proof whatsoever of their false claims and raging screeds, Amazon will post nothing but the "Bad Reviews" first, forcing a reader to read all the reviews to find a good or favorable one. You constantly do this on my books' pages on your site.
I've had my first two books reviewed by a credible and professional source. None other than the former Editor and Chief of the National Public Radio of the Washington Bureau FAVORABLY reviewed my books and yet you bury that review.
The other point is that this is not a forum for book reviews. Literally no one offers any semblance of a book review on my books or even on most of the rich and famous authors. Have you read lately what Danielle Steele has had to say about the insanity of Amazon.com's "Reader's Reviews"? It isn't favorable.
Major news media all over the United States are coming to grips with the very thing I am talking about. Attacking an author instead of examining and arguing pro or con about that author's views is NOT a book review. It is NOT free speech to call an author names, call into question the veracity of his choice in publishing outlets, call into question the author's mental health, and the name-calling! My God in heaven, the name-calling.
What is even more chilling than all of this is how on more than one occasion I've been threatened with death over my views on what is and what is not Expatriatism. Fiction writers who are on the New York Times Bestseller List have pictures of their homes, address included, posted online with suggestions from the "Reader Reviewer" on just how to assault the author when he or she is seen on the street.
Why would any news or media outlet allow such dangerous practices?
Yahoo and many major news outlets are seeing the problem and doing something about it. One major metropolitan newspaper is now cutting off "Reader's Reviews" on articles and stories after a certain period of time (two weeks, I believe). Yahoo ended up cutting off its "Reader's Comments" section completely because of what these sorts of practices always devolve into.
LuLu Publishing allows its authors to choose whether to allow comments on the author's page or not. I personally would never allow "Reader's Comments or Reviews" (an oxymoron) because it just, as in the words of a very well known fiction writer, "…invites personal attacks and threats."
Perhaps there was a time in America when to allow a forum where some, who actually read the book, would offer a review. Perhaps there was a time when Americans would engage in a properly constructed dialogue on issues instead of attacking and threatening the author proffering different or unusual ideas.
That time is long gone.
What are you going to do about it, Amazon.com?
***
FREE 6-Day Spanish Course!
***
I've written you before as an author with several books online and have always gotten the answer that Amazon.com wants a forum for readers to post their views.
However, what your system allows is a forum for people to vent, rage, rant, lie, and if the truth be known, they haven't even read the books they claim they have read. How can there be thousands of "Reader's Reviews" of a book BEFORE the book has even made an appearance, which has happened on more than one occasion? Popular and controversial authors will have literally thousands of posts in the "Reader's Reviews" section before the book has hit the shelves of bookstores. These are, therefore, not reviews at all but a raging screed.
I get the same thing and I am a relatively unknown author. Because I write of the controversial practice of Americans committing CULTURAL IMPERIALISM in the Gringolandias they form in Mexico as "Fakepats," I get Americans who live in those Mexican towns who have never read the books sending me such harmful comments. The most popular comments are the ones that accuse me of "Self-Publishing." They level these claims against my first two books and the claims are absolutely false.
Why would Amazon.com allow such a thing to go on and on if what you, the company, want to do is sell books? Mindlessly, most buyers will believe these idiotic claims and not buy the book, thus diminishing my income. And, incomprehensibly, with no proof whatsoever of their false claims and raging screeds, Amazon will post nothing but the "Bad Reviews" first, forcing a reader to read all the reviews to find a good or favorable one. You constantly do this on my books' pages on your site.
I've had my first two books reviewed by a credible and professional source. None other than the former Editor and Chief of the National Public Radio of the Washington Bureau FAVORABLY reviewed my books and yet you bury that review.
The other point is that this is not a forum for book reviews. Literally no one offers any semblance of a book review on my books or even on most of the rich and famous authors. Have you read lately what Danielle Steele has had to say about the insanity of Amazon.com's "Reader's Reviews"? It isn't favorable.
Major news media all over the United States are coming to grips with the very thing I am talking about. Attacking an author instead of examining and arguing pro or con about that author's views is NOT a book review. It is NOT free speech to call an author names, call into question the veracity of his choice in publishing outlets, call into question the author's mental health, and the name-calling! My God in heaven, the name-calling.
What is even more chilling than all of this is how on more than one occasion I've been threatened with death over my views on what is and what is not Expatriatism. Fiction writers who are on the New York Times Bestseller List have pictures of their homes, address included, posted online with suggestions from the "Reader Reviewer" on just how to assault the author when he or she is seen on the street.
Why would any news or media outlet allow such dangerous practices?
Yahoo and many major news outlets are seeing the problem and doing something about it. One major metropolitan newspaper is now cutting off "Reader's Reviews" on articles and stories after a certain period of time (two weeks, I believe). Yahoo ended up cutting off its "Reader's Comments" section completely because of what these sorts of practices always devolve into.
LuLu Publishing allows its authors to choose whether to allow comments on the author's page or not. I personally would never allow "Reader's Comments or Reviews" (an oxymoron) because it just, as in the words of a very well known fiction writer, "…invites personal attacks and threats."
Perhaps there was a time in America when to allow a forum where some, who actually read the book, would offer a review. Perhaps there was a time when Americans would engage in a properly constructed dialogue on issues instead of attacking and threatening the author proffering different or unusual ideas.
That time is long gone.
What are you going to do about it, Amazon.com?
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report – 10
"Correct change, please!"
What would you do if you went into a restaurant, ordered a meal for your darling little family of four that came to $30.95, but when you tried to pay with a $50.00 bill, the clerk gives you a look that could wither concrete and replies,
"That will be correct change, please."
In the small yet feisty Central Mexican town of
Guanajuato, you better have the correct change when buying anything or you are just likely to be shown the door.
We have a Latina friend who moved to Guanajuato from another Latin American country. She went into a Panaderia, a bakery, and picked up a variety of bread items. Whatever her bill came to, and I can't recall the details, the clerk was lacking three pesos change. The clerk demanded correct change. When my friend suggested that she was the customer and that the vendor should not inconvenience the customer, the clerk told my friend, in no uncertain Spanish terms, that she would have to come up with the correct change or forget the bread. My friend asked if she could come in another time and collect the difference owed. The answer came in the form of the clerk she-devil grabbing the bread out of my friend's hands and telling her to take a long walk on a short pier.
I would love so much to tell you that this is an isolated incident. But, as I am fond of saying, I would be lying.
My wife was in an ice cream shop trying to buy a couple of items that came to about four dollars and fifty cents. The young impertinent Chickitita told my wife to produce the correct change or forget it. My darling sweetheart tried paying for the two ice creams with a fifty-peso note, about five dollars. The Mexican Werewolf from Guanajuato's Hellmouth would not make change, which would have amounted to about one measly half-dollar or a little less.
Today, we ordered a pizza. Knowing of Guanajuato's Correct Change Only Frenzy, my wife made sure the girlie on the phone understood that the delivery guy would have to come equipped to make change for five hundred pesos. Of course, he showed up with N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Not one peso.
Not only that, he demanded that we stupid Gringos just fork over the Five Hundred and he would bring back the change while we dined on the Pizza that cost Five Hundred Pesos. I'm sure he would have never returned with the change and Guanajuato's Hellmouth would have frozen over with Mexicans skating on the ice before he would ever admit he had even seen us before or that he had delivered a pizza to us.
I can imagine the scene in the pizza place when my wife called in the order. The usual scenario is the female clerk/cook is intertwined with her boyfriend engaging in sexual foreplay. I mean this most sincerely. I've lost count of the times we've walked into a place to buy something and the staff is engaging in some ritualistic pre-poking foreplay. In one instance, this chick continued getting her boyfriend off, I suppose, while my wife stood at the counter trying to order some chicken. I am not making this up. The clerk saw my wife standing there but did not stop her activity to take the order. I was watching and timing their sex acts to see how long it was going to take before we could eat. They went at it tongue and thrust until the hot stallion wore out and fell down into a chair from exhaustion, and again I am just supposing.
This is the norm, folks, and not the exception in Guanajuato.
The pizza delivery kid said the chick didn't tell him to bring change and I can just understand why.
When I say that Guanajuato is not Gringo friendly and that Guanajuatenses are not interested in providing good customer service, this is just one of the examples of what I am talking about!!
###
Click Here To Get our Expat Print & eBooks
What would you do if you went into a restaurant, ordered a meal for your darling little family of four that came to $30.95, but when you tried to pay with a $50.00 bill, the clerk gives you a look that could wither concrete and replies,
"That will be correct change, please."
In the small yet feisty Central Mexican town of
Guanajuato, you better have the correct change when buying anything or you are just likely to be shown the door.
We have a Latina friend who moved to Guanajuato from another Latin American country. She went into a Panaderia, a bakery, and picked up a variety of bread items. Whatever her bill came to, and I can't recall the details, the clerk was lacking three pesos change. The clerk demanded correct change. When my friend suggested that she was the customer and that the vendor should not inconvenience the customer, the clerk told my friend, in no uncertain Spanish terms, that she would have to come up with the correct change or forget the bread. My friend asked if she could come in another time and collect the difference owed. The answer came in the form of the clerk she-devil grabbing the bread out of my friend's hands and telling her to take a long walk on a short pier.
I would love so much to tell you that this is an isolated incident. But, as I am fond of saying, I would be lying.
My wife was in an ice cream shop trying to buy a couple of items that came to about four dollars and fifty cents. The young impertinent Chickitita told my wife to produce the correct change or forget it. My darling sweetheart tried paying for the two ice creams with a fifty-peso note, about five dollars. The Mexican Werewolf from Guanajuato's Hellmouth would not make change, which would have amounted to about one measly half-dollar or a little less.
Today, we ordered a pizza. Knowing of Guanajuato's Correct Change Only Frenzy, my wife made sure the girlie on the phone understood that the delivery guy would have to come equipped to make change for five hundred pesos. Of course, he showed up with N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Not one peso.
Not only that, he demanded that we stupid Gringos just fork over the Five Hundred and he would bring back the change while we dined on the Pizza that cost Five Hundred Pesos. I'm sure he would have never returned with the change and Guanajuato's Hellmouth would have frozen over with Mexicans skating on the ice before he would ever admit he had even seen us before or that he had delivered a pizza to us.
I can imagine the scene in the pizza place when my wife called in the order. The usual scenario is the female clerk/cook is intertwined with her boyfriend engaging in sexual foreplay. I mean this most sincerely. I've lost count of the times we've walked into a place to buy something and the staff is engaging in some ritualistic pre-poking foreplay. In one instance, this chick continued getting her boyfriend off, I suppose, while my wife stood at the counter trying to order some chicken. I am not making this up. The clerk saw my wife standing there but did not stop her activity to take the order. I was watching and timing their sex acts to see how long it was going to take before we could eat. They went at it tongue and thrust until the hot stallion wore out and fell down into a chair from exhaustion, and again I am just supposing.
This is the norm, folks, and not the exception in Guanajuato.
The pizza delivery kid said the chick didn't tell him to bring change and I can just understand why.
When I say that Guanajuato is not Gringo friendly and that Guanajuatenses are not interested in providing good customer service, this is just one of the examples of what I am talking about!!
###
Click Here To Get our Expat Print & eBooks
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Mexico - The Land of Little Butts
If you have only been a tourist in Mexico and have never lived here, you may have never noticed this. Mexico is a country of little butts and its entire infrastructure is designed for their small, and perky rear-ends. In know this for a fact because I am a professional writer trained to note and record such things.
Americans, of course, have all of the fat-butt genes God handed out at creation. There is no use in denying this, so don't try. You will not win the argument. Americans have the fattest keisters on the planet and all the proof you need is to come to Mexico, stay for about a month, and try to get along "well" in normal daily affairs.
We have to be assisted into the back seat of Mexican cabs because our fannies are so large that we cannot get in and out of the backseats without the fire department coming with the Jaws of Life. When we try riding the buses all we can get into the seat is one butt-cheek with the other hanging over the side looking and flopping about like a swollen blob-monster. It also becomes plaintively apparent when we try to get in and out of some of the doors installed in these buildings-houses included. They were all built for hobbits, which, by the way, are real and all live here in Guanajuato. Mexico.
My wife and I notice this too when we try going out to eat. I swear to God that every restaurant in the town is designed for someone no more than 4.5 feet tall. This includes the entrances and the seating arrangements. I can get one side of my fundamental onto the chair cushion and one kneecap under the table. The other leg has to stay extended out in to the aisle causing all manner of havoc with people trying to jump over this telephone-pole-sized leg. They act horrified since they have never seen something so huge.
In addition, the toilets: I think I have some permanent damage, or something, from trying to sit on these toilet seats designed for someone with a backside the size of a hand puppet. I have actually broken many of them-I am deadly serious-all around town in the public facilities. I try never to frequent the same public facility twice so as not to be recognized. I am sure there is a warrant out for my buttock crimes.
It is nightmarish!
Not only does this town's infrastructure cater to little-butted people but also to people who are the size of Santa's Elves. I know I have sustained multiple concussions from forgetting that the doors in all these homes and buildings are built with the "little folks" in mind. I have rearranged my scalp, not purposely mind you, on many occasions from scraping it on the doors. We had an apartment here where the back door was less than two feet wide. I swear I am not making this up. I could not enter nor exit that back door without contorting myself into an inhuman and ungodly shape. I simple could not walk squarely through that door.
I cannot describe to you what it is like to be a giant in a land of little hobbits.
I had to travel eight hours to a resort town that had a Wal-Mart that catered to big-butted King Kong Gringos just to buy a pair of underwear. I do not for one nanosecond believe that I would be able to find underwear in Central Mexico to fit me. There isn't the demand to accommodate fat butts.
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Americans, of course, have all of the fat-butt genes God handed out at creation. There is no use in denying this, so don't try. You will not win the argument. Americans have the fattest keisters on the planet and all the proof you need is to come to Mexico, stay for about a month, and try to get along "well" in normal daily affairs.
We have to be assisted into the back seat of Mexican cabs because our fannies are so large that we cannot get in and out of the backseats without the fire department coming with the Jaws of Life. When we try riding the buses all we can get into the seat is one butt-cheek with the other hanging over the side looking and flopping about like a swollen blob-monster. It also becomes plaintively apparent when we try to get in and out of some of the doors installed in these buildings-houses included. They were all built for hobbits, which, by the way, are real and all live here in Guanajuato. Mexico.
My wife and I notice this too when we try going out to eat. I swear to God that every restaurant in the town is designed for someone no more than 4.5 feet tall. This includes the entrances and the seating arrangements. I can get one side of my fundamental onto the chair cushion and one kneecap under the table. The other leg has to stay extended out in to the aisle causing all manner of havoc with people trying to jump over this telephone-pole-sized leg. They act horrified since they have never seen something so huge.
In addition, the toilets: I think I have some permanent damage, or something, from trying to sit on these toilet seats designed for someone with a backside the size of a hand puppet. I have actually broken many of them-I am deadly serious-all around town in the public facilities. I try never to frequent the same public facility twice so as not to be recognized. I am sure there is a warrant out for my buttock crimes.
It is nightmarish!
Not only does this town's infrastructure cater to little-butted people but also to people who are the size of Santa's Elves. I know I have sustained multiple concussions from forgetting that the doors in all these homes and buildings are built with the "little folks" in mind. I have rearranged my scalp, not purposely mind you, on many occasions from scraping it on the doors. We had an apartment here where the back door was less than two feet wide. I swear I am not making this up. I could not enter nor exit that back door without contorting myself into an inhuman and ungodly shape. I simple could not walk squarely through that door.
I cannot describe to you what it is like to be a giant in a land of little hobbits.
I had to travel eight hours to a resort town that had a Wal-Mart that catered to big-butted King Kong Gringos just to buy a pair of underwear. I do not for one nanosecond believe that I would be able to find underwear in Central Mexico to fit me. There isn't the demand to accommodate fat butts.
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Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Mexican Living - Haircuts, Doctors, and Things
There is a universal, absolute, immutable, infrangible, and inviolable fact of the universe (like gravity and bad breath) that one rarely considers: No matter what you tell your haircut person (notice how nonsexist that was) about how you want your hair cut it will NEVER come out the way you want it, EVER!
You will get the haircut the person who is cutting your hair wants to give you.
This has always been true since Adam first asked Eve to cut his hair and it came out looking like the raccoon he just named. This is true. It's in the Bible.
This has always been my experience whenever I went to the barber in the United States. He or she (there I am again acknowledging both sexes) would ask me how I wanted to have my haircut. I would mumble something incomprehensible, to which they would always say,
"Alrighty, let's see what we can do."
In addition, it would come out looking like the haircut person wanted it to. I would tell them thank you, pay them a fortune, and walk out with my head hung low.
Now, imagine, if you will, having to try this in Mexico in Spanish! It is the same here. They ask you how you want your hair cut and you have to come up with an explanation.
I prepared diligently for the day I knew would eventually come. I had this Spanish book with a dialogue in it called, "Let's get our hair cut!"
I memorized the pertinent vocabulary. I even practiced hand gestures in the mirror to pantomime how short I wanted my hair and where to cut and how much. I had this down to a science and was confident that I was finally, for the first time in my life, going to get the haircut I wanted. You see I thought, stupidly, that somehow it would be different here.
So, my wife and I went into the hairstylist place. She went, not that she needed a haircut, but to hold my hand.
I told the haircut person, with unfailing linguistic accuracy, how I wanted my hair cut. He mumbled something back to my clear and succinct Spanish that I did not understand, and then got to work.
When it was done, I put on my glasses. When I looked into the mirror, I looked like a taller and slightly skinner version of Drew Carey.
I pulled my visor over my head, paid the guy, and slithered off.
I let it grow out and tried this again only with a different "establishment." This time it was a woman who cut my hair. I went through the whole routine again. Only this time, I contacted a fellow expat, who is a fluent Spanish speaker, and got haircut-explaining lessons from him.
I was even better prepared.
I went through the ordeal but came out looking like a fatter version of Justin Timberlake.
This is when the universal law of haircutting was first firmly established in my mind. No matter where you go on this planet, you will always get the haircut the haircutter THINKS you want and there is nothing you can do about it-ever!
I knew I had to do something. I couldn't afford to go to the United States just to get a haircut.
What I now do is take my passport with me to get a haircut. For my passport picture, I had my head shaved to a velvety shrub. I could use my head as a brillo-pad.
This has been working every time. This leaves no room for creative license for the haircutting person and it comes out exactly as I want it each time. It is foolproof!
I am happy. My hair is happy. It is one less worry. Except try going to the doctor and explain how you have the painful and embarrassing itch of hemorrhoids.
Mexican Living Print and eBooks - What You Need To Know When Traveling or Planning To Live in Mexico.
You will get the haircut the person who is cutting your hair wants to give you.
This has always been true since Adam first asked Eve to cut his hair and it came out looking like the raccoon he just named. This is true. It's in the Bible.
This has always been my experience whenever I went to the barber in the United States. He or she (there I am again acknowledging both sexes) would ask me how I wanted to have my haircut. I would mumble something incomprehensible, to which they would always say,
"Alrighty, let's see what we can do."
In addition, it would come out looking like the haircut person wanted it to. I would tell them thank you, pay them a fortune, and walk out with my head hung low.
Now, imagine, if you will, having to try this in Mexico in Spanish! It is the same here. They ask you how you want your hair cut and you have to come up with an explanation.
I prepared diligently for the day I knew would eventually come. I had this Spanish book with a dialogue in it called, "Let's get our hair cut!"
I memorized the pertinent vocabulary. I even practiced hand gestures in the mirror to pantomime how short I wanted my hair and where to cut and how much. I had this down to a science and was confident that I was finally, for the first time in my life, going to get the haircut I wanted. You see I thought, stupidly, that somehow it would be different here.
So, my wife and I went into the hairstylist place. She went, not that she needed a haircut, but to hold my hand.
I told the haircut person, with unfailing linguistic accuracy, how I wanted my hair cut. He mumbled something back to my clear and succinct Spanish that I did not understand, and then got to work.
When it was done, I put on my glasses. When I looked into the mirror, I looked like a taller and slightly skinner version of Drew Carey.
I pulled my visor over my head, paid the guy, and slithered off.
I let it grow out and tried this again only with a different "establishment." This time it was a woman who cut my hair. I went through the whole routine again. Only this time, I contacted a fellow expat, who is a fluent Spanish speaker, and got haircut-explaining lessons from him.
I was even better prepared.
I went through the ordeal but came out looking like a fatter version of Justin Timberlake.
This is when the universal law of haircutting was first firmly established in my mind. No matter where you go on this planet, you will always get the haircut the haircutter THINKS you want and there is nothing you can do about it-ever!
I knew I had to do something. I couldn't afford to go to the United States just to get a haircut.
What I now do is take my passport with me to get a haircut. For my passport picture, I had my head shaved to a velvety shrub. I could use my head as a brillo-pad.
This has been working every time. This leaves no room for creative license for the haircutting person and it comes out exactly as I want it each time. It is foolproof!
I am happy. My hair is happy. It is one less worry. Except try going to the doctor and explain how you have the painful and embarrassing itch of hemorrhoids.
Mexican Living Print and eBooks - What You Need To Know When Traveling or Planning To Live in Mexico.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report – 9
I never seem to run out of things to say to keep up my reputation as The Most Hated Gringo in the Whole World. All I have to do is go out into the community and eventually I see one of my admiring fans in a store, walking down the street, or just sitting in the park glaring at me.About three years ago, I sent a review copy of my unpublished book, GUANANUATO, MEXICO, to a lady who had bought and read our first book, THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT LIVING IN MEXICO. She agreed to write a review of the new, but yet-to-be-published manuscript. She loved it to the point where she wanted to follow our advice and come to Guanajuato to study Spanish. She also wanted to get together with us to get to know us once she arrived in town.
We arranged a time and place. Our new reader-friend showed up walking with this lady (Gringolandian) who I just saw today in the grocery store. This lady, with whom our reader was walking, has never met us or even spoken to us. We don't even know her name. Yet, she obviously knows us because when she found this woman was planning to meet us, she warned the woman not to talk us, as we were monsters.
The reader friend told us of the warning at the end of our time together drinking coffee and eating cake in a local restaurant. She actually said she was glad to meet us and that we weren't the monsters the other expats told her we were.
Now, if you want to read what has caused us to be vilified, go to this link and read what we've written. As a result of all this prose, we are made out to be monsters. That was the very word used by the white, stringy-haired, skinny old woman whom I watched gliding like a ghost through the supermarket today. Seeing her brought back this memory. She's never talked to us but tells people that we are monsters.
A little background that our reader-friend told us:
She was enrolled in a Spanish school that had some rental deals going with the ringleader of THE MOST HATED GRINGO IN THE WHOLE WORLD campaign. The GOMER owned a slew of properties that he rented to the students who attended this school and who wanted a private living accommodation.
Our new reader-friend was renting from him. He is the person I'm pretty sure sent me the death threats. He also told our new friend not to talk to us.
It turned out that this GOMER so hated us because he had nothing but a monetary motive for doing so. He felt, or should I say deluded himself, that our writing would discourage people from visiting or living in Guanajuato and renting his properties. A sideline business he was (and in which he might still be involved) conducting involved making false documentations such as Visas and License Plates for the Gringos here in town.
Now, isn't that special? Here he was leading the band on how to kill me (literally speaking, if you must know). He actually sent me the following:
"Die, Hitler…you should die…"
I have that email of his, linked to his IP address, for public consumption and have toyed with the idea of putting it online. "How's that, Mr. Bill?"
Anyway, there's never a dull moment when I gather my courage, try to recall my combat training, and venture out in the public of Guanajuato where I am THE MOST HATED GRINGO IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!
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The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 8
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Three issues I've about which I've written and for which the Gringolandians have taken such umbrage are the following:
1. Boozing and drugging in the expat community.
2. Underestimating the Noise factor in Mexico.
3. Mexicans don't do preventive maintenance.
Da Booze
Ok, my hypothesis goes something like this: Americans lead the world in Mental Illness.
"Although parallel studies in 27 other countries are not yet complete, the new numbers suggest that the United States is poised to rank No. 1 globally for mental illness, researchers said." (Rick Weiss, Washington Post Staff Writer)
What a dubious distinction, but true nonetheless. America is full of psych cases and rates as having the highest number in the world.
This nuttiness, I've long suspected, expresses itself in massive substance abuse. Once again, my suspicions have not been off the mark:
"ScienceDaily (July 1, 2008) — A survey of 17 countries has found that despite its punitive drug policies the United States has the highest levels of illegal cocaine and cannabis use. The study, by Louisa Degenhardt (University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia) and colleagues, is based on the World Health Organization's Composite International Diagnostic Interview (CIDI)."
When Americans move to Mexico, for whatever reason…from studying Spanish to Retirement, they bring their psychopathologies with them. These psychopathologies usually get worse over time. They move to Mexico based on a fantasy, an idea, an over-inflated concept. They find they are not as accepted as they thought they would be and resort to forming little enclaves, which the locals call Gringolandians.
What is so spooky is how closely these Gringo Enclaves begin to resemble an incarnation of The Lord of the Flies.
They can't or won't speak the language and end up limiting their social life to one another, their fellow Gringos. Often, they turn to drinking and to drugs to help themselves cope with the isolation and social incest.
I spoke with a therapist just this week who not only confirmed what I've just written, but expressed it with not a small amount of disgust. She's seen this in Guanajuato in the Gringo population.
Too Loud
Someone in San Miguel de Allende recently wrote a letter to the editor of the English-Language Newspaper complaining about the noise. Oh, man, this is so typical of the Gringo who is attracted to Mexico based on his or her La-La Land fantasy. I wonder just what this person believed the complaint would do. Shut the Mexicans up? Some actually resort to assaulting the Mexicans, as I wrote in a previous Blog. Throwing things at the Mexican or hosing them down are but two incidents I've reported. Noise is one of the most Underestimated Factors in the Gringo Living-in-Mexico Fantasy.
It Isn't Broke
If it isn't broken why take it apart and oil it? Why check the voltage? Why replace a working light bulb with a more efficient one? Why move a muscle if something is still working?
Mexicans do not typically do Preventive Maintenance on anything. The Gringolandians actually wrote to me and accused me of Racism the last time I wrote about this fact of Mexican culture. That's how accurate Gringos tend to be in their ethnographic and anthropological observations about Mexican culture.
Oh, and the Gringolandians will also tell you that since they've been here "X" number of years and I've been here for fewer years, that all I say about Mexico is less accurate than their views.
Can you believe that?
Right now I am suffering through what has to be a prime example of Mexicans who do not do preventive maintenance. My DSL Internet Connection isn't working. I got up this morning and found a TMO…Typical Mexican Operation working in my Internet Connection.
If you read Ned Crouch's book, "MEXICANS & AMERICANS: Cracking the Cultural Code," you will see a picture emerging of a nightmarish attempt for Americans trying to do business in Mexico and trying to convince Mexican employees of the need of doing Preventive Maintenance.
They just won't do it.
I would suggest that if you are giving retiring, working, or studying in Mexico the slightest of thoughts, you get this book and memorize it.
It is not a long or hard stretch to imagine why anything in this country stops working. And, it is only when it stops working that the Mexican is moved to fix it.
It is their cultural affectation. Getting your panties all twisted in a knot over it will not make it better.
It will make you miserable.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Life in Mexico - Where's the Toilet Paper?
I received a very kind email from a reader in Canada who "accidentally" happened upon my column. She's married to a Mexican and has lived in Mexico for a while. She immediately identified with my writing since most of what I write is about living in Mexico.
She thought I was funny-imagine that.
She asked that I write a column on the issue of public restrooms (or the lack thereof) in Mexico. So, it is to the lady in Canada, married to a Mexican, I dedicate this column.
Do you recall public rest stop bathrooms on the highways of America? Since flying has become so common in the U.S. I am not sure anyone drives on vacation anymore. But you know what I mean. The kids bug the "you know what" out of you to stop for a potty break along the highway. There are those roadside "rest stops" conveniently located in the middle of nowhere where every serial killer in America visits at least once.
I honestly cannot recall one decent roadside rest stop bathroom potty that didn't cause me insufferable and unremitting nightmares. Maybe they've cleaned these places up since I've been out of the country but I sincerely doubt it. I mean, you would walk into these "facilities" and never know exactly what had died and was left there to rot. That, of course, explains the smell.
(I've often speculated the smell had to be attributed to the countless janitors the state would hire to clean the dumps, and then forget about them, leaving them to die in the line of duty.)
Another feature of these horror houses trying to pass as bathrooms was that there was never one trace of toilet paper. There were never any toilet seats. The sinks were always a nice shade of inky black, indicating they had never once been cleaned since they were installed (that's because all attempts to do so were met with instant but very agonizing death).
Public restrooms in Mexico are actually marginally (marginally being the operative word) better. You can find ones in which you can relieve yourself without having to hold your breath the entire time or having medical respiratory equipment to survive the event. Sometimes there are real toilet seats, and some sinks look like you can use them without contracting flesh-eating bacteria.
However, there is a ritual one must follow when going potty in Mexico. In most public restrooms, you have to pay three pesos to get in the door. You are then given three, if you are lucky, squares of toilet paper and they send off you to do your business.
It is not wise to argue the point that three squares of tissue is adequate for a Barbie doll and not a human being. They may summarily rescind what they deem a generous offer of tissue and confiscate what they gave you. Bring your own tissue!
I've seen Mexican women whip out an entire roll of toilet paper (maybe two) from shopping bags when the family is in tow. Men, of course, cannot be seen carrying a roll of toilet paper, so they have huge wads in their pockets or in their mochilas (backpacks).
Here's another bathroom treat that you men will no doubt find very special. You will never find a man cleaning public restrooms-at least I haven't. Maybe because cleaning in Mexico is still suppose to be "women's work." I don't know. I've only seen women bathroom janitors.
More than once, when I've had a bladder disaster on the verge of exploding, I've walked into the men's room to find women swabbing the deck or cleaning sinks and mirrors. And, here's the thing. Though they turn and notice your presence, THEY WILL NOT LEAVE.
The woman janitor will stay at her cleaning post (God bless her) no matter what. If you want to go potty, you'd better hope you can do it with someone your Grandmother's age watching. I mean, really!
In a local department store here in Guanajuato, the janitor's closet is in the men's room. That's where they store all their cleaning stuff. Each time I go in there, there is a covey of women janitors having a girl's chat session that is always about the drinking habits of their husbands and boyfriends. You have to tap a bladder while they are having a hen session.
They don't even bat an eye when you walk in. To make it worse, they always are so polite and greet you. They even point to the urinal and say something like, "Adelante." This means, "Go right ahead." Can you believe this?
Once, in Leon, Guanajuato (this is where we all go when we want to risk our lives in a traffic accident), I had to use the men's room in a restaurant in which we were eating. There were two ladies cleaning the place while all 10 urinals were occupied. There the men were, doing their duty, with one of the Grannies mopping the floor directly behind them.
Everyone acted as though this was as normal as life itself while I stood there mouth agape, legs crossed, and dying.
I ditched it into a stall because I felt bladder-lock coming on me and felt sure I would have to be taken away in an ambulance or something.
So, after securing a stall, and making sure it was locked, what did I hear but a woman talking in the stall next to me on her cell phone. Apparently, the ladies powder room was too full so she availed herself to the men's room. After she finished her duty, she saw some guy at a urinal whom she knew. They stood there chatting (I could see this through the cracks in the stall's door where the hinges are) until he finished and they left the men's room together.
Now, how's that, my Canadian reader friend?
THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT LIVING IN MEXICO
She thought I was funny-imagine that.
She asked that I write a column on the issue of public restrooms (or the lack thereof) in Mexico. So, it is to the lady in Canada, married to a Mexican, I dedicate this column.
Do you recall public rest stop bathrooms on the highways of America? Since flying has become so common in the U.S. I am not sure anyone drives on vacation anymore. But you know what I mean. The kids bug the "you know what" out of you to stop for a potty break along the highway. There are those roadside "rest stops" conveniently located in the middle of nowhere where every serial killer in America visits at least once.
I honestly cannot recall one decent roadside rest stop bathroom potty that didn't cause me insufferable and unremitting nightmares. Maybe they've cleaned these places up since I've been out of the country but I sincerely doubt it. I mean, you would walk into these "facilities" and never know exactly what had died and was left there to rot. That, of course, explains the smell.
(I've often speculated the smell had to be attributed to the countless janitors the state would hire to clean the dumps, and then forget about them, leaving them to die in the line of duty.)
Another feature of these horror houses trying to pass as bathrooms was that there was never one trace of toilet paper. There were never any toilet seats. The sinks were always a nice shade of inky black, indicating they had never once been cleaned since they were installed (that's because all attempts to do so were met with instant but very agonizing death).
Public restrooms in Mexico are actually marginally (marginally being the operative word) better. You can find ones in which you can relieve yourself without having to hold your breath the entire time or having medical respiratory equipment to survive the event. Sometimes there are real toilet seats, and some sinks look like you can use them without contracting flesh-eating bacteria.
However, there is a ritual one must follow when going potty in Mexico. In most public restrooms, you have to pay three pesos to get in the door. You are then given three, if you are lucky, squares of toilet paper and they send off you to do your business.
It is not wise to argue the point that three squares of tissue is adequate for a Barbie doll and not a human being. They may summarily rescind what they deem a generous offer of tissue and confiscate what they gave you. Bring your own tissue!
I've seen Mexican women whip out an entire roll of toilet paper (maybe two) from shopping bags when the family is in tow. Men, of course, cannot be seen carrying a roll of toilet paper, so they have huge wads in their pockets or in their mochilas (backpacks).
Here's another bathroom treat that you men will no doubt find very special. You will never find a man cleaning public restrooms-at least I haven't. Maybe because cleaning in Mexico is still suppose to be "women's work." I don't know. I've only seen women bathroom janitors.
More than once, when I've had a bladder disaster on the verge of exploding, I've walked into the men's room to find women swabbing the deck or cleaning sinks and mirrors. And, here's the thing. Though they turn and notice your presence, THEY WILL NOT LEAVE.
The woman janitor will stay at her cleaning post (God bless her) no matter what. If you want to go potty, you'd better hope you can do it with someone your Grandmother's age watching. I mean, really!
In a local department store here in Guanajuato, the janitor's closet is in the men's room. That's where they store all their cleaning stuff. Each time I go in there, there is a covey of women janitors having a girl's chat session that is always about the drinking habits of their husbands and boyfriends. You have to tap a bladder while they are having a hen session.
They don't even bat an eye when you walk in. To make it worse, they always are so polite and greet you. They even point to the urinal and say something like, "Adelante." This means, "Go right ahead." Can you believe this?
Once, in Leon, Guanajuato (this is where we all go when we want to risk our lives in a traffic accident), I had to use the men's room in a restaurant in which we were eating. There were two ladies cleaning the place while all 10 urinals were occupied. There the men were, doing their duty, with one of the Grannies mopping the floor directly behind them.
Everyone acted as though this was as normal as life itself while I stood there mouth agape, legs crossed, and dying.
I ditched it into a stall because I felt bladder-lock coming on me and felt sure I would have to be taken away in an ambulance or something.
So, after securing a stall, and making sure it was locked, what did I hear but a woman talking in the stall next to me on her cell phone. Apparently, the ladies powder room was too full so she availed herself to the men's room. After she finished her duty, she saw some guy at a urinal whom she knew. They stood there chatting (I could see this through the cracks in the stall's door where the hinges are) until he finished and they left the men's room together.
Now, how's that, my Canadian reader friend?
THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT LIVING IN MEXICO
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Sunday, July 20, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 7
Throughout my time living in Mexico, I've been hinting at the impression, and that's all it's been until now, an impression, that the Gringolandizing of San Miguel de Allende was not a happenstance accident. So many of my faithful and devoted fans have sent me such seething, venom-spitting support telling me, among many things, how I am the most hated Gringo in the World and that of all the Gringos who have ever crossed the border, the mighty and magnificent Gringolandians have dubbed me the most ill-informed.
One of the many things that has inspired their Tacos of Wrath has been my gall for suggesting that the Gringolandizing of San Miguel de Allende, of which the Gringolandians contribute each time they lay down a million or two dollars for overpriced houses, is a concerted, organized, and Cultural Imperialistic Effort. It is not a bunch of old people who come for a circumstantial weekend and end up with a new house in their Investment Portfolio. They are wooed and here are the facts. It's no longer hearsay…the truth is in.
Aspen-based developer Bald Mountain is just one of many of those who see only dollar signs and how to increase their bank accounts with more them. These are the guys who could care less about Mexican language and culture. These are the guys who would transform the Mexican country into something very American and they are doing just that.
"For some time, the land stretching from Calle Cardo to Calle Nueva, that was once part of the Instituto Allende with houses and a hotel, then became a holding of the Aristos Hotels, has been undergoing changes. Now it is to be a US$234-million luxury resort and residential community named Rosewood, and ground was broken on June 28 by Aspen-based developer Bald Mountain. The city has benefited in various ways." (http://www.infosma.com/newexciting/8-7-21.htm#3)
Do not miss this point: Who exactly is saying that the city of SMA has benefited in many ways? The Mexicans of SMA, the street vendors, the owners of the mom-and-pop stores?
And, do not miss THIS point: For five years, I've been talking to SMA store workers, cab drivers, hotel maids, bus station maids and janitors, and it has been from them I have been gathering the rising discontent about how the Gringos are buying their town. And, let me tell you; that's exactly what the organized American Real Estate Conglomerates have in mind: To hell with language and culture, we want money.
"For some time, the land stretching from Calle Cardo to Calle Nueva, that was once part of the Instituto Allende with houses and a hotel, then became a holding of the Aristos Hotels, has been undergoing changes. Now it is to be a US$234-million luxury resort and residential community named Rosewood, and ground was broken on June 28 by Aspen-based developer Bald Mountain." (Ibid)
I've been saying this for over five years that SMA's Gringolandia was not just a few elderly folks coming for week's vacation and being talked into buying a house. They were "pre-sold" by slick advertising and pampered and wooed long before coming to Mexico.
Here's the bribe the Gringolandian Moguls used to convince the Mexican city and state officials that "development" is for their own good and that Americans are the only answer to their miserable third-world existences:
"DIF has received US$200,000 from Bald Mountain; the new crossing at Aldama and Cardo was contributed to the city; US$11,000 went for planning works to be carried out at Landeta Park, and Bald Mountain promises one percent of all sales will go to a non-profit SMA foundation for community benefit." (Ibid)
It is with a contribution here and a promise there that they slowly but surely destroy patrimony:
"Plans are for 250 new trees to replace old and/diseased ones, or those necessarily removed in construction. The official name is Rosewood San Miguel de Allende and Artesana Rosewood Residences. Rosewood Hotels and Resorts of Dallas, Texas, have charge of operation of both the resort and the residences. The resort hotel is scheduled to open in 2010 with 63 guest rooms and suites, event facilities and public spaces for rotating exhibitions. There are to be fitness center and spa, restaurants, wine and tequila cellars, and swimming pools. The residences will range from 1,800 square feet (US$850,000) to 8,000 square feet (US$3 million)." (Ibid)
Their steps to 21st Century Cultural Imperialism:
First, destroy the native language by moving in and refusing to learn the language. Soon, the locals have adapted to service the invading and infecting culture by learning the invader's language.
Second, destroy the unique colonial character of the architecture.
Do you believe for one moment this resort will look and feel like Colonial Mexico?
So many vile threats have been filling my email inbox since 2004 from Gringos in SMA for suggesting that what the Gringolandians have had in mind all along is the creation of a Disneyland.
Well, you'll have your non-existent Disneyland-like theme park's construction in motion by 2010 according to Antonio Ramírez in his article, "Anuncian Recate de Pueblos Mineros.
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Saturday, July 19, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 6
Ok, here is what happened: On March 31, 2005, Pat Buchanan, conservative commentator and former presidential candidate, was giving a speech at Western Michigan University when some 24-year-old ding-dong. He apparently did not like what he was hearing, decided the appropriately mature and tolerant behavior would be to attack Mr. Buchanan with a bottle of salad dressing.
I do not know the motives of this nut, whether he was going crown Mr. Buchanan across the noggin, but he ended up "dousing" him with salad dressing instead while screaming, "Stop the bigotry."
Interesting.
Now this could, I suppose, be construed as the actions of a simple-minded, nut-case liberal who, when he hears rhetoric with which he cannot cope, has to resort to a violent act to settle issues in his liberal-demented mind. However, this was not an isolated incident.
Just two days prior to this event with Mr. Buchanan, another noted conservative, William Kristol, editor of the magazine, The Weekly Standard, and former chief of staff to Vice President Quayle, was attacked with a pie at a college campus in Indiana.
Do we see a trend here? This confuses me. However, a great deal in life confuses me.
Isn't the liberal side of the aisle supposed to be the group who condemns the conservative side of massive intolerance, bigotry, insufferable dogmatism, hate speech, and whatever else they can come up with when they have had a little too much to drink? Aren't the liberals (at least in their own minds) the only creatures on earth who champion the cause of tolerance in everyone from the gays to the ACLU defending the North American Man Boy Love Association's right (pro bono I might add) in a civil case where they claim it is free expression to teach adults how to rape children?
Do you remember Ward Churchill? He was the University of Colorado professor who wrote an essay about the victims of the 9/11 attack.
Of Churchill's essay, an Associated Press writer quotes,
"The World Trade Center victims were "little Eichmanns," a reference to Adolf Eichmann, who organized Nazi plans to exterminate Europe's Jews. Churchill also spoke of the "gallant sacrifices" of the "combat teams" that struck America." (College Cancels Professor's Appearance, Tuesday, February 1, 2005, Associated Press).
What, no salad dressing dousing or pie throwing?
Am I on the wrong track here? Am I cruising down the wrong way on a one-way street? This man, Ward Churchill, made the incomprehensibly hideous comparison of 9/11 victims with Nazis and no one wants to throw a pie, pour a little thousand island on him, not even a clicking of a tongue or a wagging of a finger?
Ok, here is the entire point of my confusion: is this how a liberal deals with free speech? Is a physical assault upon the person expressing a contrary view the behavior of a tolerant left? Is this what we should now expect in the behavior of the left-physical assault?
Today it is a bottle of salad dressing or a pie. What will they use next? To what depths can we expect this liberal-assault-a-conservative behavior to escalate?
Should I conclude that the left only tolerates the free speech they find appealing and in agreement with their particular world view?
This is so confusing that my wife and I decided, 5 years ago, that going to hell in a hand basket is not what we wanted to do, so we moved to another country so that we could sit back, contemplate our confusion, and watch the rest of America enjoy the ride.
However, in the beginning of the summer of 2007, while I was earning my well-earned title of THE MOST HATED GRINGO IN THE WORLD, someone actually made an attempt on my life. At least, that is how it looked then and looks today, July 2008.
I had received a series of the Gringolandia's infamous anonymous emails and internet posts threatening me for writing about just about everything. The really scary one was,
"I hope when I wake up tomorrow morning I will have found the Guanajuato expats will have taken care of you…"
About 12 hours after receiving that bit of lovely rhetoric someone set a fire outside our bedroom window at about four fifteen or so in the morning. I was up already with an illness or else my wife and I would have perished in the subsequent explosion from the car's gas tank catching fire along with the butane gas tanks which fuel the homes in Guanajuato. I estimate most of the neighbors would have been killed in their sleep.
Granted, this June 4th, 2007 fire remains uninvestigated (such is life in Central Mexico) but it happened, it is verifiable, and until proven otherwise it remains a fact I got the death threat 12 hours before the fire.
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I do not know the motives of this nut, whether he was going crown Mr. Buchanan across the noggin, but he ended up "dousing" him with salad dressing instead while screaming, "Stop the bigotry."
Interesting.
Now this could, I suppose, be construed as the actions of a simple-minded, nut-case liberal who, when he hears rhetoric with which he cannot cope, has to resort to a violent act to settle issues in his liberal-demented mind. However, this was not an isolated incident.
Just two days prior to this event with Mr. Buchanan, another noted conservative, William Kristol, editor of the magazine, The Weekly Standard, and former chief of staff to Vice President Quayle, was attacked with a pie at a college campus in Indiana.
Do we see a trend here? This confuses me. However, a great deal in life confuses me.
Isn't the liberal side of the aisle supposed to be the group who condemns the conservative side of massive intolerance, bigotry, insufferable dogmatism, hate speech, and whatever else they can come up with when they have had a little too much to drink? Aren't the liberals (at least in their own minds) the only creatures on earth who champion the cause of tolerance in everyone from the gays to the ACLU defending the North American Man Boy Love Association's right (pro bono I might add) in a civil case where they claim it is free expression to teach adults how to rape children?
Do you remember Ward Churchill? He was the University of Colorado professor who wrote an essay about the victims of the 9/11 attack.
Of Churchill's essay, an Associated Press writer quotes,
"The World Trade Center victims were "little Eichmanns," a reference to Adolf Eichmann, who organized Nazi plans to exterminate Europe's Jews. Churchill also spoke of the "gallant sacrifices" of the "combat teams" that struck America." (College Cancels Professor's Appearance, Tuesday, February 1, 2005, Associated Press).
What, no salad dressing dousing or pie throwing?
Am I on the wrong track here? Am I cruising down the wrong way on a one-way street? This man, Ward Churchill, made the incomprehensibly hideous comparison of 9/11 victims with Nazis and no one wants to throw a pie, pour a little thousand island on him, not even a clicking of a tongue or a wagging of a finger?
Ok, here is the entire point of my confusion: is this how a liberal deals with free speech? Is a physical assault upon the person expressing a contrary view the behavior of a tolerant left? Is this what we should now expect in the behavior of the left-physical assault?
Today it is a bottle of salad dressing or a pie. What will they use next? To what depths can we expect this liberal-assault-a-conservative behavior to escalate?
Should I conclude that the left only tolerates the free speech they find appealing and in agreement with their particular world view?
This is so confusing that my wife and I decided, 5 years ago, that going to hell in a hand basket is not what we wanted to do, so we moved to another country so that we could sit back, contemplate our confusion, and watch the rest of America enjoy the ride.
However, in the beginning of the summer of 2007, while I was earning my well-earned title of THE MOST HATED GRINGO IN THE WORLD, someone actually made an attempt on my life. At least, that is how it looked then and looks today, July 2008.
I had received a series of the Gringolandia's infamous anonymous emails and internet posts threatening me for writing about just about everything. The really scary one was,
"I hope when I wake up tomorrow morning I will have found the Guanajuato expats will have taken care of you…"
About 12 hours after receiving that bit of lovely rhetoric someone set a fire outside our bedroom window at about four fifteen or so in the morning. I was up already with an illness or else my wife and I would have perished in the subsequent explosion from the car's gas tank catching fire along with the butane gas tanks which fuel the homes in Guanajuato. I estimate most of the neighbors would have been killed in their sleep.
Granted, this June 4th, 2007 fire remains uninvestigated (such is life in Central Mexico) but it happened, it is verifiable, and until proven otherwise it remains a fact I got the death threat 12 hours before the fire.
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Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 5
I've been suggesting, no wait, I've been insisting, throughout my five-year harangue about expat issues here in Mexico's Gringolandias that mental illness has to play a role in explaining why what happens here happens!At first, it really was just speculation on my part. I mean, really, how else could you explain the reactions of Gringolandia's Fakepats to the things I've written? More than one of these addled-minded Gringolandias have wished me death on more than one occasion. So, what's the skinny on these paragons of expat virtue who claim not only expertise in Mexican culture but will even go so far as to claim to have the "Most authentic Mexican" such-and-such business, which they operate out of their homes?
Really, I swear to God this is true. I know of a pair of Americans who operate a business out of their home (I wonder if they pay taxes?) and advertise it as "The Most Authentic Mexican…" and yet they are Gringos and at least one member of the pair could not speak enough Spanish to save their lives—literally.
Sheesh!
Anyway, what I've speculated about American's mental illness rate seems to have some basis in fact:
"One-quarter of all Americans met the criteria for having a mental illness within the past year, and fully a quarter of those had a "serious" disorder that significantly disrupted their ability to function day to day, according to the largest and most detailed survey of the nation's mental health, published yesterday." (Rick Weiss, Washington Post Staff Writer)
Now does this apply to what I've been writing about? It just might. If behavior (and I'm talking about wild-eyed and off-the-chart behavior here) is any indication, Gringolandias with their Happy Hours certainly provide a strong clue about their mental states.
My situation in Guanajuato not unusual.
We've been collecting data from Mexican chat rooms and forums. I am not the only writer who has not only expressed a doubt or two regarding the choices Gringo make in ignoring the language and culture or practicing CULTURAL IMPERIALISM. Other writers, too, have garnered hideous attacks…verbal as well threats to their safety.
In the Mexican state of Michoacan, an Internet Chat Room-Forum offers a look into another Gringolandia and often with the same results:
Re: hostile forum members
"I have been involved with a good number of forums associated with Mexico for 10 years and it occurs elsewhere. I see it on Chapala.com, MexConnect, MexOnLine.com. I see people ask perfectly
innocent questions and get jumped on, put down, ridiculed, it's happened to me. The Moderators let it slide and it can get mean. I've been told that the same people off-forum are very nice but take on a
different personality when on forum. They seem to get pleasure seeing how clever they can be." (Source protected)
And, ultimately these who dare to offer objections about anything are summarily removed from the forums.
Another Michoacan forum where the poor moderator resigned from the group had this to say:
"But the main reason I need to remove myself from the public eye is that there is an element in the expat community of Michoacan, hate mongers who participate in gossip, spreading rumors that have no basis in truth, intolerant and untruthful people who apparently have such low self esteem that they have to build themselves up by cutting other people down. the fact that the size of my arms has been a topic of conversation here, that people would attack me for my physical attributes, I find absolutely revolting." (Source protected)
Now, remember we are talking about grown men and women who are in their twilight years and should have been growing in grace, wisdom, and humility. That's the whole point about aging. You learn how to get along and handle adversity. Unfortunately, no one told the Americans who join these chat rooms and forums and who move to Mexico.
Mental Illness?
"Although parallel studies in 27 other countries are not yet complete, the new numbers suggest that the United States is poised to rank No. 1 globally for mental illness, researchers said." (Rick Weiss, Washington Post Staff Writer)
If the Gringolandias really are microcosms of America, and it is a miniature America they are moving to Mexico to create, then one has to wonder just how many of them fall into the nut-case category?
One just wonders!
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Wednesday, July 16, 2008
GUANAJUATO LIVING - Who Farted?
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Do you have embarrassing gas problems? Do you find this problem creeping up on you when you least expect it? I bet not.
If you have lived in the United States all your life, I bet you've never seen a gas main or line and have just taken it on faith that it is there pumping gas into your house. The same with water. How many of us would shudder at the thought of not being able to get a refreshing drink from the tap whenever we wanted it?
In Mexico, it is a part of everyday life that you have no gas lines leading into the house nor can you drink water from the tap. That's just life here.
What we depend on are these screaming men who walk through the streets from early in the morning and until late at night calling out,
"Gas!" or "Agua!" (water)
These gas and water servicemen are those on whom every resident in the country of Mexico depends to bring these two vital components of our existence. I don't know what we would do without them.
How it works is that your gas for heating and cooking comes in two four-foot-high tanks. These bellowing supermen will carry these tanks on their backs to where your outside connection is and replace the empties with newly filled ones. They test to see whether there are any leaks and off they go to their next customer.
Having never had to deal with such a setup, I had to have "gas lessons" from my landlady who took no end of pleasure in instructing the poor, ignorant gringo in how to turn on the gas tanks. What happens is that one day you will have hot water and the next day you will not. Whoops! Time to change the tanks.
Since there are two tanks, you have to switch from the empty one to the full one by turning off the valve on the empty one, pushing a lever to open the line, and turning on the valve on the full tank. Once both are empty, you have to wait for the street patrolling gas guy to happen by and get his attention. Or, you can call the gas company and they will make an appearance--eventually. Sometimes these men (and they are always men) will be wonderfully musical in their plaintiff cry, "Gas!" One guy, I swear, sounds like he is calling out, "Gas! Get your nice and friendly gas!" But, of course, he isn't.
Judging when you need more gas is easy. Doing the water is not. How many of us know how many times a day we would hit the tap in America for a cool drink? Who counts? That made the potable water issue a little harder to judge.
At first, we were using three five-gallon jugs a week, but that wasn't enough. Therefore, we went to four, which suited us fine. It is hard to decide how many jugs are enough at first. To complicate matters, the water guys in our first neighborhood would not come by daily and sometimes we ran out of water!
To get a refill of gas is cheap. Two tanks will cost $480.00 pesos and will last about three months. Water, in the five gallons jugs, will run $18.00 pesos each. We were spending $160.00 pesos a month for purified water.
You can hear the cries of these servicemen all over the city. They are out, rain or shine, to make sure that you don't run out of water and that the embarrassing gas problem won't catch you unaware.
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Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Mexico - Money Doesn't Buy You Love
Today I was sitting in one of our beautiful plazas when some Americans showed up and started taking pictures of this person's parrot. Seeing people walking around with what Americans would consider exotic animals is not unusual here. So we watched them snapping pictures and speaking to this guy, who didn't speak English, but who politely nodded and smiled at them.I decided to engage these gringos since it is a great way to get ideas for my writing, and what do you know, here I am writing about it. See what I mean?
This lady and her husband, who were traveling with another couple, were from Jackson Hole, Wyoming; a place, I am told, that is popular with American celebrities. So I am thinking at this point, these folks have some bucks. Can you just imagine the real estate prices there if the Hollywood ilk have taken a liking to it? Anyway.
We began talking and my most favorite subject came up: San Miguel de Allende. If you have been following my train of thought in my writing, you will remember that I have this particular interest in that little Colonial Mexican town and how the American gringo population has essentially turned it into an American colony.
You will hear more English spoken there than Spanish. That is a bit on the pathetic side, if you ask me. But no one ever asks me!
So there we were talking and the subject of Mexican-Gringo relationships came up. I cannot fathom who first brought that subject up (wink, wink).
I made my point that in San Miguel de Allende there is "trouble in River City" because the Gringos there, for the most part, refuse to learn Spanish and to associate with the Mexicans. My point to her, which I always try to make in my writing, is there will never be a social link between the two groups, the gringos and the Mexicans, as long as the Americans refuse to learn the language.
The Americans build strip malls and gated communities and associate with "their own kind" because they won't learn the language (I don't even want to know if there are other reasons for their enclave mentality!). Just imagine the level of social interaction that is possible when no one can speak the language-we talking a big zero. What are you going to do, sit there and grunt and fart at each other?
To the Mexicans' credit, many of the shopkeepers and business people have learned English. But they have told us when we interviewed them, the Americans still will not associate with them. So the Mexicans accept the Americans' money and smile politely knowing that these Americans will never be their friends. I am not making this up-Mexicans have told us this to our gringo faces!
So, what do you think this woman's reaction was to my pontificating rhetoric?
"So, the Mexicans are not grateful for the money we bring into their community?"
Well, slap my face and call me Sally, but isn't that the typical American solution? How big a Freudian slip was that? Let us throw money at the poor misguided third-world savages so they will be properly thankful!
My God in Heaven, is it any wonder why the rest of the world is a little, how shall I say this, pissed off at America?
Mexicans want your friendship not your money! Money cannot but love, loyalty, faithfulness, or friendship. But apparently, a great number of Americans think that it can. Just look at what this lady's response was! Sheesh!
Our experience has been this: because we have attempted to learn their language and culture, we are invited into their lives and homes.
Mexicans see through this "let us throw money and watch them grovel in thankfulness" façade. It will never buy their love and friendship.
I told all of this, I really did, to this woman's face. Her husband, maybe sensing the imminent explosion, sprang into action and dragged his red-faced wife off to go to some more gringo activities like throwing money at these poor misguided third-world savages.
Sigh.
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The Ugly American? Where Is He Now?
Every single person contemplating working, studying, or retiring to Mexico should have to read a little book published in 1958 by W.W. Norton and penned by William Lederer and Eugene Burdick. This fictional account is a story of life in a fictitious Asian country in which diplomatic blunder after blunder occurs because of linguistic and cultural ineptitude. Though fiction, the authors go to great lengths in the epilogue to show how the stories in the book were based on actual people and events in the American Foreign Service.The book is called, The Ugly American.
The premise of the book seems to be saying that when linguistic and cultural incompetence abounds, so does the presence of arrogance and prejudice, as perceived by the natives, wherever Americans are stationed. Americans, in the story, seem more occupied with entertaining, mixing with only their own kind, and presenting an image of America that frankly is appalling. They cannot mix with the locals in the country to which they are assigned because they cannot communicate with the locals. They cannot find out what's going on in the country in which they live because they cannot speak, read, or write the language of their host country!
They must depend, in most cases, on interpreters who don't always give the correct interpretation because of cultural affectations. They also could be working for the other side.
In the factual epilogue of the book, the authors point out a New York Times story that reported that as few as 50% of the Foreign Service Corps in 1958 had a speaking knowledge of any foreign language. This figure represented those who were completely monolingual. They were being assigned to a foreign country with no ability to communicate in the language of the host country.
On the other hand, 9 out of 10 Russians, the then cold-war enemy, could not only speak the language of the country to which they were assigned but came linguistically and culturally ready before arriving on station. They came ready in the language and were culturally sensitive so as not to offend the host country's occupants.
The point is: not knowing the language, the portal to the culture, is being woefully equipped. Our enemies knew the right strategy. The Americans?
Linguistic and cultural ineptitude can result in grave and maybe deadly consequences in the Foreign Service Field.
I wanted to find out today if America had woken up to the need for requiring their Foreign Service applicants to be fluent in a foreign language. In 1958, there was no requirement for applicants to speak a second language. After all, a character in the book points out, "interpreters are a dime a dozen." This attitude ended up, for real, costing the U.S. a lot in the Cambodian and Vietnamese conflicts. Interpreters were no substitute for knowing the language and it turned out, in 1958, to be lethally inadequate.
The 2007's State Department's Web Site says:
" There is no foreign language requirement to join the Foreign Service. However, the U.S. Department of State welcomes candidates who are proficient in one or more foreign languages. Those who pass the Oral Assessment can raise their ranking on the List of Eligible Hires or the Hiring Register by passing a language test in any foreign language used by the U.S. Department of State." (http://www.careers.state.gov/specialist/join/index.html#6)
Incredibly, there still is no requirement for applicants for the Foreign Service to know a foreign language!
Mexican Living Print and eBooks - What You Need To Know When Traveling or Planning To Live in Mexico
Monday, July 14, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 4
Let me just say from the beginning that 99% of the Gringolandians who have infected the Mexican Republic will absolutely call me a liar, some to my face, for what I am about to report. What these SUV, gas guzzling, environment destroying Gringos, who have rarely if ever walked the streets of Guanajuato will say as the bases for calling me a liar is that since they've never experienced such and such therefore it could not have happened to me.
It's American logic at its best.
Anyway…we walked downtown and on the way back encountered an expat we actually like whose Spanish is too poor to have a conversation, so we spoke English. My wife, who lost her brother-in-law to cancer yesterday, wanted to share her grief. While talking on the small and narrow sidewalk, an old Mexican woman comes by and attacks our friend and me. She pulled her elbow back like she was doing a Jackie-Chan Kung Fu move and elbowed both our 63-year-old friend and me into the wall. She could have just as easily elbowed us into the street with buses bearing down on us.
Then, to make sure we knew this was no accident, she screeches, "Gringos" with such seething, spitting rage that there was no doubt as to this babosa's intent.
I tried to come up with my practiced, "Cual es su pedo!" but was left speechless.
(If you want to know what that means, ask a Mexican.)
Anyway, the woman, who is one among many who have this seething hatred for Gringos in this town and it is, according to a well-educated Mexican woman with whom we are friends, growing and growing.
It is an anti-American sentiment that, trust me when I tell you, the vast majority of Americans who live so contentedly in their little Gringolandia Bubbles will deny it ever takes place.
I used to get shoved into the path of buses getting "clipped" twice in the shoulder, once in the right leg, and had a beer-truck hit me while backing up. My wife was thrown into the street by a green-sweater clad hussy who didn't even stop to pick her up from the street. Thank God no cars were coming.
Guanajuato is not a "Gringo-Friendly" town.
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 3
Have you ever noticed that most Americans radically confuse the concepts of slander, libel, and defamation? When they read something, which in many cases is very true of themselves, they jump on the slander bandwagon and begin counting the dollars they think their lawyers are going to win in a lawsuit.Last year, one of the Gringolandians in the State of Guanajuato wrote me an email asking why don't go and live in Iraq. You know the place. That's where writers who express a contrary view or a difference of opinion are relieved of their heads and have the video played all over the Internet.
My latest run-in with slander accusers has been with a prominent online article directory where I've had my articles banked since March 2005. They've begun censoring my articles based on their loosey-goosey claim that at least two articles, if not more, "might be" insulting to Mexicans.
Now, before we go on, let's get on the same page as to what is and what is not "slander" or "libel."
"In law, defamation (also called vilification, slander, and libel) is the communication of a statement that makes a false claim, expressively stated or implied to be factual, that may give an individual, business, product, group, government or nation a negative image. Slander refers to a malicious, false, and defamatory statement or report, while libel refers to any other form of communication such as written words or images. Most jurisdictions allow legal actions, civil and/or criminal, to deter various kinds of defamation and retaliate against groundless criticism." (From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia)
For emphasis, I have highlighted in bold print the words, "false claim, false," and "groundless criticism."
These are, in my view, what my attorney means when she tells me "Truth is the answer to all claims of libel." Though you can get yourself taken to the cleaners legally for invasion of privacy, if you make claims, as I have in my over three hundred articles on Mexican and Gringolandian culture, that can be substantiated, then truth wins every time over someone claiming to have their Pink Panties all twisted in a knot over something I've written that the poor Gringolandian might take as harder to swallow than all those pills and booze they are reported to be fond of.
The editor at this extremely well known online article directory claims my articles are "risky" because they might offend Mexicans. Does this person think I am making all this stuff up?
I wrote this woman and told her I can most certainly name the Mexican people from shopkeepers to University Professors who have kindly sat me down and told me the things about the culture that I've reported in my writing.
I can introduce you to the shopkeeper who told us these Mexican women who shove you out of the way to get waited first at a counter are "Malcriadas." I can introduce you to the life-long and very rich Guanajuato woman who told us the further north you go in Mexico the better treatment of Gringos will be found. I can sit you down to supper with the Mexican University Professor who told us the Northern Mexican states have no lost love for those who live in the southern portion of Mexico.
How is this slander when my claims are not groundless?
Note it is Gringos, Americans with zero understanding of Mexican culture, who object to my writing as being slander or libel. And yet, not one of them has offered a shred of evidence that what I've written is "false claim, false," and/or "groundless criticism."
Why do Americans do this? If the many Gringolandians and how they think are indeed Microcosms of the larger American picture, then here's a possible answer:
What I've been writing about since 2005 with much alacrity is how life for the American expat in Mexico basically falls into two classifications. First, there are the Expats who actually live in the trenches. We live in Mexican neighborhoods and that's because we bothered to try to become bilingual. We actually go where Mexicans go, live where they live, eat where and how they eat, and we talk to Mexicans offering them the utmost respect by the fact we learned (are learning) their language and can learn the who, what, when, where, and how of Mexican life.
The second classification of Americans is the Fakepats. They will tell everyone they are expatriates when the truth is they only live in the Gringolandias (a gringo enclave-gated community) apart and separate from the life and culture of the country they've invaded. While everyone else on the planet understands that if you profess to want to know the local culture, it only makes sense for you to live in the local culture but this seems to go over the heads of the Gringolandians!
An excellent way of thinking about this bizarre and inexplicable thing called Gringolandia and her inhabitants is to think of a theatrical stage. (I actually got this analogy from someone else).
Theatrical stage performances show make-believe life. They have fake storefronts, homes, props, and backdrops to create the impression of a different and fake reality on the stage. Life that takes place on the stage is a fake and scripted mockery of reality. Its purpose is to entertain those watching. And yet, the actors in the play act as though what they are doing is very, very real. To hell with reality, they say, we are live on stage. What we are doing is real.
Offstage and outside the walls of the theater is where life is really taking place. This is where you find the true-life dramas taking place in the lives of those who do not live onstage and who follow the scripted fakery. It is beyond the four walls of the theater where you will discover a world you didn't know existed. It is beyond the walls where you discover a darker side of the culture you moved into because of your profession that you love Mexico.
Because you won't (can't) leave the theatrical stage where you are told what to say in the script, your profession of a love for the culture is vain and empty.
The ticket off the stage, stopping that scripted existence, will be the language-the portal to the culture.
The beginning step to earning the Mexicans' respect? Learn their language.
But, alas, "to hell with reality" is far too easy for most.
On that scripted stage of fakery and make-believe most will stay.
ENJOY GUANAJUATO
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Mexico - Going Native
If you want to expatriate to Mexico to find an affordable cost of living then there is one thing you must do--Go Native!Now, this is not as scary as you might think. I am not talking about living in the jungles of Puerto Vallarta and hoping the locals will show you how to beat your clothes clean on the rocks "down to the river", (I've seen some Mexicans still doing this).
What I am saying is that you must adopt, as much as you are able, the spending habits of a middle class Mexican family. A middle class family of four lives on about $400.00 USD a month. I don't mean that you should be living on so little also. You can live cheaply here if you assimilate some of the habits of the locals.
One area where you can save money is in your food bill. Shopping at the local supermarket will cost you much more than if you follow your neighbor to the local markets to buy your food. Many of the local farmers sell their produce in stands at far cheaper prices than the supermarket, which has a huge overhead.
Another area of money saving is eating out. You will mostly see upper-middle-class-looking Mexicans eating out regularly in the local restaurants. The menu prices here are so reasonable that eating out is a Go Native form of entertaining friends. In fact, you are more likely to receive an invitation to a restaurant as a guest before (if ever) being invited to someone's home for dinner.
My wife and I could feed four adults for what it would cost us, as a couple, to eat out in the States. You can get a huge steak dinner, with all the trimmings, and drink for less than $6.00 USD each. Though we see many Mexicans in restaurants, we do know some who never eat out. But, I would have to say it is a cheap form of entertainment and a custom worth adopting.
One area in which I refuse to go native is in some of their traditional dishes, particularly pig's head. One day, we were in the local supermarket when I saw a store flier with a pig's head pictured in the meat section. They had its mouth turned up into a smile! I found this horror in the meat department and have suffered Post Traumatic Pig Head Stress Disorder since!
I live in constant terror of receiving an invitation to someone's house and he or she will serve pig head as the meat dish. Can you just imagine this? There you are at the dinner table sniffing what smells like a pork roast. They bring a covered pan to the table only to reveal the head of a smiling pig staring at you (the eyes are still in its head, by the way).
And just what do you ask for? Is it like asking for dark or white meat when Dad's carving the Thanksgiving turkey? Which part of the hideous beast is the best meat? Is it the ears (they eat a lot of those here), the neck, or perhaps the snout is the most succulent!
"Oh, that snout looks really good today. Snout please!"
Anyway, if you Go Native as much as you can (except for pig's head), you will be able to save a large sum in your daily living expenses.
"Tha...Tha...That's all folks!"
ENJOY GUANAJUATO - A small guide to help the traveler to Mexico know what to enjoy when arriving in this obscure but significant Colonial Mexican Town.
Living in Mexico - Don't Mess with Mexican Women
I was standing outside the walk-in-closet-sized store where my wife loves to shop. It is also the neighborhood gossip center. Need I say more about why women love the place? I was helping to hold up a wall with my gringo bulk when I noticed something across the street. A Mexican woman was reading this man the riot act. I could tell from what conversation I could understand in their rapid-fire Spanish that they were lovers. I could also tell that what was happening was the public display of a very closely guarded secret: Women Run Mexico!I had no clue what this Mexican Donnybrook was about and didn't want to know. What I could see was an extremely smart Mexican man taking his chewing out bravely and, might I add, most intelligently. He shook his head in affirmation and frequently interjected, "Yes, my love," and "Yes, my heart." There was no arguing. He listened.
The man was a muscular hulk. He looked like he could bench press a pickup truck. I was sure bullets could not only bounce off his chest but, if he wanted to, he could have leaped tall buildings with a single bound, bent steel with his bare hands, changed the course of mighty rivers, and so on. You get what I mean. But, he kept his mouth shut.
The reason for this is: You Don't Mess With Mexican Women.
Never, ever, not in a million years, do you talk back, contradict, or challenge a Mexican Woman. She will not only chew you up and spit you out again, but she might also rip your arms off and beat you with the blood stubs. Why this is so is probably because women have to run things because men, as is universally true, screw things up so badly that the women have to fix their screw-ups.
I know this from personal experience (Thank God for my wife).
If anything runs smoothly in Mexico, if anything turns out right, if anything at all has any appeal whatsoever, it is because Mexican women made it happen.
It is not that Mexican men are useless. It is that they are on this earth to do what is their destiny: Not to Mess With Mexican Women!
EXPAT and LANGUAGE PRINT and eBOOK STORE
Friday, July 11, 2008
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 2
The Number Two man at the Swiss bank UBS and former U.S. Texas Senator said, “We have sort of become a nation of whiners,” he said. “You just hear this constant whining, complaining about a loss of competitiveness, America in ‘decline’ despite a major export boom that is the primary reason that growth continues in the economy.” (FOXNews.com; Thursday, July 10, 2008)
I would add to the former Texas Senator's words that America has become a nation of more than just "whiners." Drug addicts, alcoholics, narcissists, are just a few other labels that come to mind. And the vast majority of those who move to Mexico, those seeking the Gringolandia Promised Land, seem to bring their whining, drugging, boozing, and general delusional thinking right along with them with which to infect the Mexican Republic.
When the wife and I first moved here, we were understandably curious about San Miguel de Allende and what the Mexicans here in Guanajuato thought of that situation. Without fear of contradiction, everyone from Mexican Cab Drivers to University Professors told us of the San Miguel Gringo's boozing and drugging reputation. Accurate or not, it is the general consensus we garnered from our interviews.
With how we've been threatened for daring to make such an observation (from Gringolandians in both SMA and Guanajuato), it is not a terrible stretch to accept that reputation as well earned. Either that or mass psychosis has got to explain why grown men and women would resort to death threats against someone for expressing a point of view different from their own. I mean, really!
Today, while in a panaderia in our little barrio, the panadero mentioned to us how Gringos are coming into his bakery and whining at how badly they are treated by the Guanajuatenses.
What an interesting observation.
I have seen this behavior often. The Gringos, tourists or students in the local Spanish schools, think the Mexican waiting on them can't understand a word of English and so will often go off on a whining diatribe. Well, this panadero got the gist of their whining ways.
We made this observation years ago in one of our books. We made the point that in a town that has not been historically dependent upon the Gringo tourist (like Guanajuato) for their economy, just how is that town and its inhabitants going to regard the Gringo? Guanajuato is not Gringo friendly like the Gringolandias in Mexico. Whereas in San Miguel de Allende you can have your Gringo Nalga kissed all you want, you will more than likely have it kicked in Guanajuato.
So, it is a toss of the coin as to whether our panadero friend heard legitimate Gringo whining or not.
Either way, the Gringos coming to Guanajuato under the delusion that all of Mexico is like a Fantasy Island Welcoming Party just waiting to kiss their feet have a rude awakening waiting for their whining ways.
THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT LIVING IN MEXICO eBook
The Most Hated Gringo in the World Report - 1
I've decided to begin a new writing gig along a column-like line. If you haven't been following my articles and Blog posts, I have earned the reputation of being The Most Hated Gringo, The Most Despised Expat, and The Most Detested American in the entire World. At first I used to get emails (all anonymous—did you know you can send emails anonymously?) telling me that I was The Most Hated Gringo in just Mexico. It changed through the years and I am now hated on a global scale.
In addition, I am The Most Culturally Illiterate American ever to step foot over the border, and, to make it even more of a distinction, I have been told on more than one occasion that these dubious titles were bestowed upon me not only by the Gringolandians of Mexico, but every Mexican who has ever lived, currently living, or ever will live...WOW!
How can I not, therefore, begin to live up to my honored title? How can I not write a frequent column of My Thoughts, My Opining, and My Polemically Based Editorializing about My Life in Guanajuato, Mexico?
What got me going on this theme is that I saw a very rich Gringa in Guanajuato walking along a street today with a Mexican woman. They were chatting away, of course, in English only. The Gringa is rich because her hubby is a real estate mogul currently buying up the city of Guanajuato. Neither of them speaks Spanish.
The significance of this is that when I get hate mail from my dear fans, they are very careful not to reveal their names but do tell me where they live. They always add that all their friends are Mexican and these friends are in agreement that I should be run out of town, but only after a good tar and feathering and perhaps a sound beating for good measure.
Let me point out more of my absolute Cultural Illiteracy regarding these Gringolandians' claims of having nothing but Mexican friends who agree with them that I should die (not an exaggeration, by the way).
If the average Jane and Joe Gringolandian are actually telling the truth that "all their friends in Guanajuato" are Mexican, here is what that really means:
Since the vast majority of Gringolandians hail from America where there is only a 4% - 9% bilingual rate, it is a safe bet that they are, as are their fellow Gringolandians all over Mexico, monolingual. They are on a vast scale, Spanish Illiterates. This means that "all their Mexican friends" are bilingual and can speak English.
For a Mexican to speak English, it is another safe bet that they learned it while working in America as cheap labor or they are of the more highly educated upper class in Mexico.
There is no way that a Mexican who learned English as a laborer in America is going to be chumming around with a rich, upper class American Gringa in this town or any other Mexican town. The differences in socio-economic statuses are so entrenched in the culture that you will not see this occurring under any sort of normal circumstance.
In other words, a woman who works as a maid is not going to pal around with a rich Gringa. The maid, though she might speak English perfectly, would not be comfortable socializing with someone from a higher social and economic class.
If you see or hear some Gringolandian claiming to have a plethora of Mexican friends with whom they can commiserate over how evilly shameful Doug Bower is and how can they get rid of him, this means you have a nefarious coupling of Gringos and Mexicans who are of the same Socio-Economic class.
The point here is that upper class, highly educated, bilingual Mexicans could be guilty of not escaping their socio-economic biases when talking about Mexico and those who live, as Americans are wont to say, on the other side of the tracks.
I know of a woman, one of moderate means, who was talking with one of her bilingual Mexican women friends about the problems she was having with her hired help. The Mexican woman told the Gringa that in order to "control" the servants, you have to treat them like animals.
Now, is this to say that all Mexicans of means have this attitude toward the less fortunate? Of course not. I should not have to issue this disclaimer.
Hopefully, the point is well made that if the only people you, the monolingual Gringo, hang out with are the upper-class, English-equipped, educated Mexican, just how will you know if what they tell you about the culture isn't heavy laden with all manner of biases?
Here is something that is sure to bring all those anonymous emails and death threats (for real…not a lie) coming:
Mexicans living in the northern states in the Republic do not hold those in Central Mexico and all points south in very high regard. We have talked with transplants to Guanajuato from some of the northern states like Chihuahua, Zacatecas, and Durango. What they have to say about Guanajuato is not at all flattering.
One thing they mention too often for it to be happenstance is that they regard the social climate in Guanajuato as "tight." It is what Americans would say about people like the Mountain Hillbillies of the Ozarks…that they are "clannish." It is harder than nails to get Mexicans in this town to accept you into their homes for a cup of coffee, much less have them call you Paisano.
After having heard this from those in both the lower and higher economic strata, I have written about this on more than one occasion, only to garner a few rounds of threats through the "Coward's-Way Anonymous-Email Service."
And, how would I have been able to discern this apart from being able to ask in Spanish—I couldn't!
That's why I write what I do. You can't trust what the Gringolandians think they know about Mexico if they so ignore the culture and insult the people by not learning the language. If they can't ask all Mexicans of any class what it's all about, then the Gringolandian's view will be forever skewed.
Don't you think so?
BOOK STORE FOR EXPATS
In addition, I am The Most Culturally Illiterate American ever to step foot over the border, and, to make it even more of a distinction, I have been told on more than one occasion that these dubious titles were bestowed upon me not only by the Gringolandians of Mexico, but every Mexican who has ever lived, currently living, or ever will live...WOW!
How can I not, therefore, begin to live up to my honored title? How can I not write a frequent column of My Thoughts, My Opining, and My Polemically Based Editorializing about My Life in Guanajuato, Mexico?
What got me going on this theme is that I saw a very rich Gringa in Guanajuato walking along a street today with a Mexican woman. They were chatting away, of course, in English only. The Gringa is rich because her hubby is a real estate mogul currently buying up the city of Guanajuato. Neither of them speaks Spanish.
The significance of this is that when I get hate mail from my dear fans, they are very careful not to reveal their names but do tell me where they live. They always add that all their friends are Mexican and these friends are in agreement that I should be run out of town, but only after a good tar and feathering and perhaps a sound beating for good measure.
Let me point out more of my absolute Cultural Illiteracy regarding these Gringolandians' claims of having nothing but Mexican friends who agree with them that I should die (not an exaggeration, by the way).
If the average Jane and Joe Gringolandian are actually telling the truth that "all their friends in Guanajuato" are Mexican, here is what that really means:
Since the vast majority of Gringolandians hail from America where there is only a 4% - 9% bilingual rate, it is a safe bet that they are, as are their fellow Gringolandians all over Mexico, monolingual. They are on a vast scale, Spanish Illiterates. This means that "all their Mexican friends" are bilingual and can speak English.
For a Mexican to speak English, it is another safe bet that they learned it while working in America as cheap labor or they are of the more highly educated upper class in Mexico.
There is no way that a Mexican who learned English as a laborer in America is going to be chumming around with a rich, upper class American Gringa in this town or any other Mexican town. The differences in socio-economic statuses are so entrenched in the culture that you will not see this occurring under any sort of normal circumstance.
In other words, a woman who works as a maid is not going to pal around with a rich Gringa. The maid, though she might speak English perfectly, would not be comfortable socializing with someone from a higher social and economic class.
If you see or hear some Gringolandian claiming to have a plethora of Mexican friends with whom they can commiserate over how evilly shameful Doug Bower is and how can they get rid of him, this means you have a nefarious coupling of Gringos and Mexicans who are of the same Socio-Economic class.
The point here is that upper class, highly educated, bilingual Mexicans could be guilty of not escaping their socio-economic biases when talking about Mexico and those who live, as Americans are wont to say, on the other side of the tracks.
I know of a woman, one of moderate means, who was talking with one of her bilingual Mexican women friends about the problems she was having with her hired help. The Mexican woman told the Gringa that in order to "control" the servants, you have to treat them like animals.
Now, is this to say that all Mexicans of means have this attitude toward the less fortunate? Of course not. I should not have to issue this disclaimer.
Hopefully, the point is well made that if the only people you, the monolingual Gringo, hang out with are the upper-class, English-equipped, educated Mexican, just how will you know if what they tell you about the culture isn't heavy laden with all manner of biases?
Here is something that is sure to bring all those anonymous emails and death threats (for real…not a lie) coming:
Mexicans living in the northern states in the Republic do not hold those in Central Mexico and all points south in very high regard. We have talked with transplants to Guanajuato from some of the northern states like Chihuahua, Zacatecas, and Durango. What they have to say about Guanajuato is not at all flattering.
One thing they mention too often for it to be happenstance is that they regard the social climate in Guanajuato as "tight." It is what Americans would say about people like the Mountain Hillbillies of the Ozarks…that they are "clannish." It is harder than nails to get Mexicans in this town to accept you into their homes for a cup of coffee, much less have them call you Paisano.
After having heard this from those in both the lower and higher economic strata, I have written about this on more than one occasion, only to garner a few rounds of threats through the "Coward's-Way Anonymous-Email Service."
And, how would I have been able to discern this apart from being able to ask in Spanish—I couldn't!
That's why I write what I do. You can't trust what the Gringolandians think they know about Mexico if they so ignore the culture and insult the people by not learning the language. If they can't ask all Mexicans of any class what it's all about, then the Gringolandian's view will be forever skewed.
Don't you think so?
BOOK STORE FOR EXPATS
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