Tag: Mexico

Ixtapa Zihuatanejo


Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo

When I go to Mexico, or anywhere on a vacation, I don’t have a set itinerary. I know where I’m going, and I know where I hope to return if all goes well. All other destinations between the start and finish of my vacation are all determined by luck, happenstance, and sheer naivete! God always protects the innocents and the helpless.

So, on my vacation, I knew that I would leave Chicago on Friday, December 12, 2008, and return to Nuevo Laredo, Tamaulipas, Mexico, on January 3, 2009, because that is when my Mexican car permit expired. What I would do to fill all those days in between, I left to fate.

Well, not entirely. My cousin’s daughter had invited me to her university graduation party on Friday, December 19, 2008, so I had to get to her house at least one or two days before the party. I thought about going to Celaya, Guanajuato, first, but I always hate saying good-bye to everyone in Celaya. Therefore, I planned to go to Mexico City first and then on the return trip stop by to visit my family in Celaya. So I actually had some type of plan. But nothing went as planned!

I arrived at my cousin’s house on Monday, December 15, and I stayed there with them until the party. They live in Cuautitlán Izcalli, Estado de México, which is just north of Mexico City. I never made it to Mexico City to visit my family there until December 29th.

Let me tell you what happened. I was staying with my cousin until the graduation party and I was thoroughly enjoying my vacation. One day, my cousin tells me she was taking me with her family to Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo on vacation the morning after the graduation party. I told her that I had already made other plans. That I wanted to visit everyone in Mexico City and stop in Celaya on the way back. But she insisted. She was firm and assertive. I had to go with their family to Ixtapa. Well, I was weak and immediately caved in to her demand. Besides, I had never been to a beach resort on vacation in Mexico before. I would finally see what attracted Americans in droves to go to Mexico. It would be a good learning experience.

Not your average tourist trap.

Well, when we got to Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo after an eight-hour drive, it was hot there! This was December and I was wearing only swimming trunks, and I was sweating! Meanwhile back in Chicago, everyone was enduring snowstorms and sub-zero weather. And I didn’t even feel a little guilty! That’s why Americans and Canadians went to Mexico in the winter! My biggest surprise was discovering that most of the tourists were Mexicans. Entire families of Mexicans. I was told that most of the foreign tourists go to Acapulco where there’s a constant party atmosphere. We stayed at the Hotel Fontán where my cousin had made reservations the year before for about fifty bucks per night for a room for four people during the height of the tourist season. I felt very fortunate that she invited me along. I enjoyed going to the beach and going to all the mercados. There was one terrible, tragic moment that changed our lives forever, but I will leave that tale for another blog post.

DDR

Division of labor


Flautas con arroz y frijoles.

In Mexico, whenever I sit at the kitchen table, the first female who sees me immediately asks me what I want to eat, whether I’m hungry or not. As an American, I feel guilty. No matter whose house I visit, the same thing always happens. As a guest on vacation, I don’t really have a schedule to follow, so I spend a lot of time in the morning just hanging out, which I don’t mind at all because I’m on vacation to rest up for when I get back. And I just plain like hanging around doing nothing anyway. Usually, I don’t sit in the living room. Most Mexican living rooms resemble museums because they are on display, but they are not meant to be entered except on those very special occasions when the entire family is present. So, when I wake up at my host’s house, I tend to go to the kitchen to talk to an uncle or cousin. If we make a mess in the kitchen, no one really cares. If the living room gets messed up, heads will roll!

Well, in Mexico, the woman is responsible for many of the household chores. So if I’m sitting in the kitchen with my uncle, the first female who enters the kitchen fires up the stove and asks what we’d like to eat. She then looks in the fridge and lists the possibilities for breakfast. I usually don’t eat breakfast, so I always say that I’m not hungry. But no one ever seems to believe me and they continue cooking anyway.

I must admit that I did enjoy all this attention and I actually started to like eating breakfast first thing in the morning. I was served breakfast at every house I visited. One cousin once served me breakfast, but forgot to give me silverware. The kitchen was full of hungry guests, so I got up and got my own silverware. When my cousin sat down, she saw me eating my soup with a spoon. She suddenly realized that she forgot to give me silverware. She apologized profusely and wondered how I got my silverware. I said, “I have feet and I have hands. I got my own silverware.” Everyone stared at me in amazement!

Then came all these questions about my life in Chicago. Everyone knew I was divorced and lived alone. Who prepared my breakfast? Who cleaned my house? Who did my laundry? They were amazed when I told them that I did most things for myself. This idea was so foreign to them. A man taking care of himself? How could this be? I don’t think any of the females really believed me.

DDR

La casa de mi tía Jovita


Xochimilco, 1965

Whenever I go to México City, I’m always certain to visit mi tía Jovita. I believe she was my mother’s favorite sister. And tía Jovita has always paid me a lot of attention whenever I’m in México. I know I can go to her house anytime and I’ll be welcome there. The earliest I can remember visiting her is 1965 when we spent about two months in México from December to February. My mother had told the nuns at Holy Cross School that we were going to México for two months and the nuns told mother that if my brothers and I missed that much school we would all fail to be promoted to the next grade. My mother didn’t take the nuns seriously and we stayed in Mexico for two whole months and didn’t come back until the end of February. And guess what! My mother bragged that the nuns didn’t fail all of us! They only failed to promote me! Danny and Tato were promoted, but I wasn’t. Well, two out of three ain’t bad! I had to repeat the fourth grade, but my mother viewed this as a victory against the Holy Cross nuns. I, however, was distraught about being considered a retard! Kids were cruel like that back then. Now, I look back and think of my second year int the fourth grade as 4th Grade 2.0.

Anyway, when we first went to tía Jovita’s house it only had one floor. The house is built on the side of a steep mountain slope. At the top, stood a little brick building that served as the bathroom. It’s now a two-room house where my cousin Mauricio lives with his daughter and her daughter. But when I first went there, it was an exceedingly small house with all tía Jovita’s children living there. She eventually had ten children and her grandchildren would often be there, too. There were always a lot of children there because her brother-in-law lived right next door and there was a door that opened to my tía Jovita’s back yard. I remember my cousins would call their cousins primo or prima I would also call them cousin. But they would tell me that they weren’t my cousins. They were just their cousins. And they were right. But as a nine-year-old, I just didn’t get it. Now that I think of it, I’m still confused by our family tree.

I went there in 1978 and it still had only one floor. And then I stopped going to Mexico for about twenty-nine years. But I got to see the house, because every time my sister Delia went, she brought back pictures of the house. Well, not exactly pictures of the house, but rather pictures of the family. I couldn’t help but notice the house in the background in these pictures. One time, I told my sister, “Wow, tía Jovita now has a second floor!” When I returned last December, I saw that she now had a third floor. When I left, I asked her to build a fourth floor so I could move in.

So, tía Jovita has a son living on the second floor with his two daughters, a daughter living on the third floor with her husband, son and two daughters. And another son living in the little house at the top with his daughter and granddaughter. And NO ONE pays any rent to tía Jovita! Even in México, this just isn’t right! But she doesn’t say anything. She is just such a nice woman.

Relationships


La Casa de Frida Kahlo, Coyoacán, México.

While I was in Mexico, I learned a little more about Mexican relationships. I suppose I have my own preconceived American notions about how their relationships are structured. Well, I was surprised to learn about many aspects about their relationships that were previously unknown to me.

Yes, there are Mexicans who marry for life, but that’s not always the expectation of every couple. During one of my many dinner conversations with relatives, I mentioned that the divorce rate in America was about 50%. One of my cousins boasted, “Mexico is catching up!” She divorced a couple of years earlier. And getting a divorce in Mexico is now much easier. Only one party has to go to court to request the divorce! A few of my cousins had children out-of-wedlock. That’s not so unusual here in the U.S., but I was surprised to hear that it also occurs more and more frequently in Mexico. One cousin had recently broken up with his wife. So I asked if he was already divorced or just separated. He said that they were never married. She just left the house and he got to keep their two daughters.

One of the strangest things I heard about was commitment in a relationship–or rather a lack of commitment. If a couple stays together for more than one year and then they break up, one party can file a civil lawsuit for monetary damages for not marrying the other. So many people keep track of their anniversary date, not to celebrate it, but to break up just before they can be sued. And the longer they’re together as a couple, the more monetary damages they’re liable for. Because a couple, it’s assumed, is together because they eventually want to get married.

DDR

El americano


Dr. D. in Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo.

So, I’m in Mexico, visiting mi familia, and the whole time, everyone keeps reminding me that I’m an americano.  Just look at me in the picture. I’m sitting on a green, white, and red bench wearing an Ixtapa-Zihuatanejo tourist t-shirt. Now, be honest with me. Do I look American or Mexican? Okay, please tell me after you finish reading this post. I think I’d rather not hear your answer right now.

It’s December 30, 2008, and I’m at my cousin house visiting because all her brothers and sisters are coming in for New Year’s Eve. She has an impromptu dinner because, unexpectedly, she is expecting about thirty guests in her house. No one complains about the fast food (fast for Mexico) that we eat buffet style on Styrofoam plates. I already have my food and I’m eating in the living room on the opposite side of the house where the food is on the table in the dining room.

Suddenly, one cousin begins to speak Spanish with a fake American accent. Then, someone else joins in the conversation with his fake American accent. Before you know it, about ten people are speaking Spanish with a fake American accent. I think it’s rather funny. Much laughter ensues until my cousin notices me. Everyone immediately stops talking in Spanish with their fake American accent and everyone looks at me. My cousin asks me if I was offended. Actually, I tell her, I thought it was very funny. I had never heard Mexicans talk in fake American accents before, so I kind of enjoyed it. I heard other people talking like Americans on my trip through Mexico, but they always stopped when they noticed I was near. Everyone thinks I’m an americano. To be honest, I’m not sure what I am!

My cousin’s husband (my cousin-in-law?) constantly reminded me that I looked American. He couldn’t explain why, but he said I didn’t look Mexican. Other people told me the same thing. I’m sure my skin color had nothing to do with it because Mexicans come in all shades, from dark to light. Perhaps, it was my gray hair? Mexicans my age, in general, don’t have as much gray hair as me. Maybe, it was my clothing. All my clothes were bought in America. Okay, I bought some of them in Wal-Mart in Evergreen Park, Illinois, but they don’t sell the same clothes at the Wal-Marts in Mexico. I just don’t get it. I have cousins in Mexico who look more American than me, but everyone immediately recognized them as Mexicans.

Conversely, when I’m in Chicago, Mexicans approach me and immediately speak to me in Spanish. How did they know I speak Spanish if I look American? Wouldn’t that make me Mexican? When I’m in Mexico, my cousins eventually concede that I am, in fact, Mexican. Unlike other Mexicans who go back to Mexico to visit their familia, I do eat all kinds of Mexican food and I do understand EVERYTHING they say, including all the colloquialisms and swear words. I always seem to blend in with my familia. Until someone points out that I don’t look mexicano!

DDR