Mexican Living: The People of Mexico

There is simply a plethora of wonderful things about living in Mexico—the consistently calm climate, the cheap cost-of-living, the best foods on the planet, dodging dog-poop on the sidewalks. These are just a few. By far, the most amazing thing deserving the highest adulation is the Mexican people.

When we moved to this little town of Guanajuato, we were accepted, without a noticeable exception, into the lives of our neighbors as if we were their long-lost distant cousins from America who had finally found our way back to our real home—Mexico! The butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker all took it as their responsibility to watch out for the new gringos in the neighborhood and turned out to be protective of us.

After our first six months of living here, we had to go to San Antonio, Texas, to visit a terminally ill friend. On our return, the produce guy came running out of his store, virtually in tears, to see us. The little old abuela (grandmother) who owned a little snack shop did the same. They both expressed the fear that, since they had not seen us in days, we had to go back to the U.S. and neglected to say good-bye to them. They were worried, they said, about us!

When was the last time you walked into the supermarket and had the produce guy, or any store personnel at all, run up and embrace you tearfully because he had missed you? Would the word, never, be accurate?

We are wondering if our neighbors in Kansas City yet know we have left America and moved to Mexico in August, 2003.

In our former neighborhood, we did have some trouble with some neighbors who were not liked by anyone at all. They had two wild and savage French poodles that would turn any dog lover into a dog hater. I wanted to kick them each time I saw them. They would be running loose when we would try walking by the house—they attacked us often.

In desperation, we told the neighborhood Internet Café owner of our despair. He told us not to worry; his wife would take care of everything. And she did, too!

She gathered a little confab of neighborhood ladies and stormed the house where these two evil curs lived. She chewed the dog owners up one side and down the other. She informed them that these two gringos were a part of the neighborhood and demanded we be treated accordingly.

Can you even fathom that happening in America?

Sadly, we left that neighborhood for a quieter one where we've been just as accepted into the neighbor's lives and homes.

We contracted some intestinal ailment shortly after moving to our present neighborhood. Our landlady, who lives on the same property, got wind of it and was soon on our doorstep to nurse us back to health with herbs that did work to heal us!

We had some thief wannebee try to enter the house with me standing in the kitchen. He calmly walked off once seeing me. I told a neighbor minutes after the event and she went into action.

All the neighbors showed up to catch and thrash the long-gone intruder. One fellow crawled on the roof of our house to see if the thief could be hiding. The ladies calmed us and offered us tequila for our nerves. One lady was going to bring her dog over to spend the night with us. They stayed with us for as long as it took for us to be comfortable.

The would-be thief got away.

The people here are dazzling and remain so in our estimation. We have grown accustomed to this communal fellowship and would never consider to going back to a country where this type of community is long forgotten.

Doug Bower is a freelance writer and book author. His most recent writing credits include The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The Houston Chronicle, and The Philadelphia Inquirer, and Transitions Abroad. He lives with his wife in Guanajuato, Mexico. His new book, Mexican Living: Blogging it from a Third World Country, can be seen at http://www.lulu.com/content/126241