Guanajuato, Mexico -- Oh Boy!

hThis blog is dedicated to all those Gringos who write in their blogs and books that "Mexicans are a kind and patient people who know how to treat their fellow man better..."

Today we went back to the mall to buy shoes. With my all-but-deformed feet it is indeed a chore, if not a nightmare, to find shoes to fit me. Usually, when in the States, I would get a pair of New Balance in the size 10.5 quadruple E. Here, I am lucky if I can get the width "D" and that's it!

So, with my new pair of New Balance we shopped a little before returning home. Never am I left without something to blog about at either of the city's Supers.

When young men, between the ages 20-25, come into the store they get followed by the security. What I am talking about is a group of let's say six to eight college-aged looking guys coming into the store gets followed. It isn't subtle. It isn't clandestinely, it is in your face surveillance. It looks as though the red-shirted security guards are part of the group.

One has got to ask, why is this? Why does a clean-cut bunch of college guys get followed in the grocery store? I will tell you.

This bunch eats food without paying for it.

Though I've seen Mexicans of all ilk doing this, the college-aged males seem to be those who do it most often and, watch carefully, WHY DO YOU THINK THEY GET FOLLOWED WHEN THEY COME IN MASS TO THE STORE?

Two of the guards followed then the entire time they were in the store. One of them bought one item and that was it.

The Ride Home

This is really the theme of this blog: THE RIDE HOME!

Whoever thinks Mexicans are a "kind and patient people who know how to treat their fellow man better..." has never ridden in a car with a Mexican or in the backseat of a taxi.

I am convinced my wife and I will die in Mexico but not of natural causes. We will die in the backseat of a Mexican taxi. Never do I feel closer to God than when I get into a Mexican cab. I mean, really!

Today on the way home from the mall, and granted it is a far distance, our driver tried to change lanes and was cut off and honked at by one of his fellow Mexicans. Trouble ensued.

There was horn honking, obscene gestures, screaming of curse words (ones I could not begin to understand) out their windows, and the general feeling that not all was well with the Mexicans knowing how to treat their fellow man better.

We made it home, eventually. There was some sort of street blockade that contributed greatly to our driver's consternation.

###

Resources

1. THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT LIVING IN MEXICO
2. A WALK THROUGH MEXICO'S CROWN JEWEL - A Guanajuato Travelogue
3. ROCKET SPANISH
4. LEARNING SPANISH LIKE CRAZY

###