MEXICAN CULTURE CHAPTER TEN

To be honest with you, I don't see why more Gringos in Guanajuato aren't getting ripped off when trying to rent, or God forbid, buy a house on their own. It never occurred to us to move here without as much Spanish under our belts as possible. We had a high degree of fluency BEFORE coming. I find it miraculous that those who move here without any Spanish are able to find housing. Yet, they do come and they aren't speaking Spanish.

Tell me what you would have done in this circumstance:

With little-to-no linguistic ability you find a landlord with whom you manage to communicate. She shows you the apartment she has for rent. You love it and have to rent it. She tells you if you pay for six months in advance, she will give you a discount. It's cheaper per month if you pay in advance. You jump at that deal!

I can only imagine this deal was completed through a series of grunts and wild hand gestures but it was done and sealed. The lady had your money and you had a leased apartment, complete with a written contract.

Two months into your rental nirvana, there is a knock on the door. You answer it, only to discover the REAL landlord standing there demanding to know who you are, where his rent is, and where the lady you thought owned the place is!

This land-shark-lady passed herself off as the owner of the property, took the money, and is probably still in Argentina laughing her head off at the stupid gringo she ripped off.

Had this guy been able to speak Spanish, he could have asked the neighbors who the real owner of the house was and saved a few thousand dollars.

You and your business partner have been working your tails off trying to get a bunch of modern, Mexican-style duplexes off the ground. You've poured too much money to think about into hiring Mexican workers to build this duplex complex. You all have not only hired locals to do all the work, tolerating the cultural problems when Gringos and Mexicans work together, but in the end you will have an upscale duplex to offer as modern housing to the Mexican people.

One evening you two think you deserve a treat. You go to a restaurant in Guanajuato you've yet to patronize. You get there, you begin walking upstairs to the dining room where the Mexicans are sitting, only to be stopped by a waiter. The waiter tells you that the two of you have to sit downstairs near the kitchen. You ask why. He is hesitant to say another word and, in fact, doesn't.

You insist on being seated in the room where the Mexicans eat but your protestations fall on deaf ears and stiff necks. Screaming ensues. The screeching gets you nowhere at all.

As you begin to leave, another waiter who is more sympathetic to your plight confesses to you outside the establishment, away from the prying eyes and ears of everyone else, that the owner of the place hates Americans. The Americans, if they want to eat there, have to be segregated from the Mexicans.

The shocking part of this is that the gringos who live in Guanajuato's Gringolandia tell me I am making this up. They call it a fiction. They say that since they've not experienced it, it could not have happened. Yet, I was told this story from the two gringos to whom it happened. They are respectable retired professionals who would have no reason in the world to make up a story.

There is a great restaurant in town where I love to eat steak. It is cheap, though they don't offer the best cuts of meat. However, the steak is tender, comes with a load of sides, and is cooked perfectly for my tastes. It is a popular place and listed in all the guidebooks. I've even referred people to it. The ambiance is 20th-century jazz and very classy. The location is also perfect and easy as pie to find.

I don't know if a tourist would notice this or not, but when Gringos come into the place, they seemed to be served last, and only after the Mexicans are served. We've been in there when we've been seated and not so much of a smile is brought to our table until all the Mexicans get their orders taken and meals served. Once, we sat there and sat there while the waiters seated and served Mexicans who came in twenty minutes after we were seated.

That was the last time we ate in this place we loved.

My boycott of it did not occur until after I confirmed this with at least four other gringos. They too have been treated like this.

I've tried asking the waiters who work there when I see them on the street about this but they have sealed lips. They won't say. They don't deny it. They just won't say. So I won't say where this place is.

Again, the most shocking thing is not that gringos are discriminated against in any restaurant. It isn't true of all places, mind you. In Casa Valadez, they treat us like royalty. I keep expecting one of them to give us backrubs and spoon our soup into our mouths each time we come in there. But, this fine treatment is not true of all the places in town.

The most shocking thing is, you guessed it, that those who inhabit Gringolandia will tell you this does not go on. They claim it can't have happened because they've never seen it.

Sigh!!