MEXICAN CULTURE CHAPTER SIX

After we had lived in Guanajuato for about two years, we noticed something so strange, so unnerving, so inexplicable that it took another two years before we arrived at a reasonable explanation for a mystery that, frankly, was a little mind-boggling. This apparently is a no-brainer for some of my readers. They've written to me and expressed, how I shall I put this, their "consternation" that I would even "waste their time" in mentioning it. But it is noteworthy in Guanajuato and is something we've yet to see in the other cities we've visited in this country.

We actually set out on a whirlwind journey to see if the rest of the country of Mexico was like Guanajuato. We did this for many reasons. One is that Mexicans we knew, who originally hailed from different cities and states within Mexico, expressed an amazing observation that "The rest of Mexico is not like it is here." I mean, really. I find that an incredible statement.

In one sense I find it credible in that we do the same in American when we talk about parts of the country that are radically different from the region in which we are from. Kansas City is nothing like New York City. Nor are its citizens like one another. While we are all Americans, we use different dialects, we have different local customs, and we think differently about life in general-we have different worldviews. Apparently the same is true in Mexico and I wanted to know why.

I find it incredible in that those who expressed to us that the rest of Mexico is not like Guanajuato did so in hushed tones, glancing from side to side as though they were about to reveal a secret of national security import, and then saying it with clenched teeth and acting like they wanted to spit in disgust after being forced to talk about Guanajuatenses.

I wanted to know why, why, and then why again someone from Chihuahua City would speak so disdainfully about the people of Guanajuato. We had just walked into a shop manned by a woman from Chihuahua right after my wife got shoved off the sidewalk and into the street. Fortunately, she wasn't hurt. But, what happened to my wife is the sort of thing I have been reporting for the past four years in my column and print venues. It is the sort of thing, I have to mention, that does not surprise the Mexicans with whom we share it. However, when we share it with some of the Gringos, they don't believe us at all. (Go figure!)

Knowing this lady because we had often shopped in her store, she noticed we were a little upset and asked why. When we told her, she went into a "Pancho Villa Mexican Rage" routine that one rarely sees as part of a Mexican's behavior. After she uttered words in Spanish that we didn't know you could use that way or even existed, she told us her stories of living in Guanajuato, Mexico, with people she called cold, unfriendly, and clannish. Amazing!

If you are a gringo in the city of Guanajuato who lives in the Expatriate trenches, you will see this behavior all the time. A true Expatriate, one who is not a Fakepatriate, is one who lives in Mexican neighborhoods, walks almost everywhere, bothers with the monumental effort to learn Spanish, understands that Linguistic fluency is the first step toward Cultural fluency, and integrates into the local cultural background.

Fakepats live in protected gringo enclaves. Because they are totally dependent on local bilingual Mexicans to hold their hands in everything in this city, they never, ever, develop linguistic or cultural fluency. Instead of walking, they drive their huge, gas-guzzling SUV's everywhere.

When an Expat walks the streets of Guanajuato, and especially during the busiest hours of the day, he will see Mexicans who virtually run up and down the sidewalks at a rate that makes one stop and wonder: "Why are they in such a hurry when it is an inviolable and irrevocable fact that a Guanajuatense will never arrive anywhere on time, ever!"

You may think this is a silly thing to talk about in an essay on Mexican Culture. However, it isn't silly and has everything to do with Mexican Culture. Also, it is very important to the potential expat to this city who wants to take the course of a true Expat and live in Mexican neighborhoods and walk everywhere. One last thing that drives home the importance of this little cultural bump in the road of Expat life is that these speedy walkers, which is almost all of them, will often times see you as a mere obstacle that needs pushed out of the way. If you land in the street, then tough luck you crybaby gringo. Furthermore, I cannot see a normal red-blooded American (especially a redneck male) taking in stride getting shoved off the sidewalk and very possibly getting "clipped" by a 20-ton city bus.

Americans often shoot each other for lesser offenses.

Let me go one record saying that I do not for one minute believe that the good people of Guanajuato are all plotting the gringos' demise. I do not believe they are getting up in the mornings and thinking to themselves,

"I wonder which gringo I can kill today by pushing them under a passing bus and make it look like an accident?"

Maybe a few do. I can think of one girl particularly who serves ice cream and acts like she would love to kill me if she had half a chance. But, hey, that's just one Mexicana and hey, I'm just one gringo.

Yet, the fact remains that the locals, the Guanajuatenses, will walk like they are terminally late (Oh, what am I saying? They are!!) and yet they will never arrive for an appointment, class, your funeral, or whatever on time. On time for a Guanajuatense means something different than the rest of the planet. However, if something is in the way, say, like a person, then he will go around you, over you, through you, and will not stop when you begin screaming in pain from being run over by that bus he didn't mean to push you in front of.

I met a gringo, visiting from Irapuato, when I was hit by a bus and was flung into him. We both were slammed through the front door of a house (fortunately, the door was open!) and onto the entry floor. We got to know each other by exchanging phone numbers and Guanajuato walking tips. I still have his business card.

These Wild Sidewalk Walkers that slam into you are almost always women between the ages of 20 and 30 and they are almost always alone. They aren't in a group and are all but speed walking doing whatever they have to in order to get around you, under you, over you, or through you and knocking you for a loop in the process. Then, inexplicably, almost miraculously, you catch up with them down the road and find them now in a group and walking like they are a bunch of old ladies on the way to the bingo hall.

In fact, you will encounter groups of them who are not walking casually but like they are a bunch of cripples. Sometimes, they will stop suddenly, open up a bag of something, and have a small picnic right there on a sidewalk (and I am not making this up) that is less than two feet wide. They will stand there laughing, talking about how much they hate their boyfriends but can't live without them, and having a bite to eat.

Once again, you are left with having to face the dangers of the street. In this variation of the Sidewalk Nightmare, they aren't trying to speed past you and knock you into the path of an oncoming tank-of-a-bus but you have to voluntarily step into the street to get around them, only to get smacked by a cab. Otherwise, you have to stand there until they finish and hope they would pass you a sandwich and a few pork rinds (which is a staple in this country, it would seem) to stave off your hunger (since you were on the way to lunch).

During the months of March and April of 2007, we went to several cities in Mexico, some in the central regions and some in the eastern parts of the country, to see if their folks walked down a sidewalk in such a frenetic hurry, shoving people into the streets along the way. We saw none of this at all. In fact, we saw little to none of the same behaviors in other cities in Mexico that we see so often here. We went to small stores to see if their locals queued in a line. There they were, like the rest of the world, standing in line instead of the mob-group mentality of provincial Guanajuato.

I just have to ask, what is the deal? What is going on in this city that makes it so different from the rest of Mexico? What causes Mexicans who hail from other regions to exclaim when referring to Guanajuato:

"The rest of Mexico is not like this?"

I've been reading several books by Cultural Analysts specializing in Mexican Culture. One fellow mentioned a situation in Mexico City in which they drive like bats-out-of-hell like there's no tomorrow (and for some there isn't). They are in such a hurry to get somewhere they speed around you. Yet, when they get outside the city, they drive slower than seven-year itches in the midst of a small caravan horde of cars. On the back roads, they drive as though they have fallen asleep and the car is driving itself.