Note: I wrote this article as a submission to a writing contest years back yet I’m sure some of it will resonate with other live abroad families or be of interest to those who want to move to Mexico. Tips & Resources for Families Wanting to Live in Mexico
“Mottha fucka tu madre”. At first I wasn´t sure that I had heard correctly. I had just re-connected with my nine-year old son in the quaint, central plaza of our small, palm-lined Baja California Sur town – population 3000 contends the white-lettered entry sign for the past five years. Or maybe that is crossed out with “pop. 3250” scribbled underneath.
There it goes again, and now I realize I am hearing correctly. A minor squabble had erupted between the local six or seven kids who play here daily with nowhere else to go and as my son was walking toward me they were trying out their street talk insults in Spanglish.
If this had been the U.S. I would have marched-up to the four-foot five gang of foul-mouthed munchkins like hell hath had no greater fury, and possibly contacted a parent or two.
But this was Mexico. I stood silently, assessing the situation while a few more spirited slurs were tossed-out, then walked away with my arms protectively around my son back to our little casita.
A week prior I´d taken one of the children and my son to the beach; the water shimmering crystallized turquoise blue in the sunlight, both bobbing up and down with graspfulls of something or other from the sea while I remained on shore waiting to see what treasures were found.
As I sat dousing our furry companion with iced cooler-water and enjoying a cold beer it was impossible to not feel appreciative of our expat life and the picturesque surroundings we were fortunate to experience and enjoy.
In Baja the word ‘tranquilo’ is laced with surreal beauty. Eight-hundred and fifty species of cacti (85% endemic) play backdrop to transfixing views of the ocean and sea.
Wherever you go on the Peninsula, you are never more than a few hours drive away from one or the other, and all the riches they have to offer. My son and his amigo had caught a quarter-pail of almejas (clams in Spanish) that the other Mom graciously cooked-up for them to savor victoriously soon after our return.
Days previous he had spent with another, showing him the secret cave behind the property amongst the ashen-dusted boulders, Cholla Cacti and Mesquite trees complete with centuries old arrowheads and stone metate with mano (similar to a mortar & pestle). A precocious, imaginative boy’s dream hide-out.
I served the two rugged, desert explorers a snack of melted cheese on tortillas and juice; sustenance to ensure success in any unforeseen outback encounter. A rattlesnake had recently been killed in the area and its carcass hung from a tree to ward off others. You could hear the resounding “pop” as the snake´s body exploded under impact from the massive rock smashed on its head a football field away.
In exchange, my son was routinely welcomed into his friend´s homes and spoiled rotten by the local American expatriate community, including being taken on boating, fishing and camping trips. On his birthday snorkeling trip to an island in the Sea of Cortez we were joyously harassed by a pod of 20-plus bottlenose dolphins.
It took me a day or so to process the event that had occurred in the square. My – and my son´s – concept of friends and friendliness was obviously different than that of the local children.
Or maybe the issue was based on class distinctions, with my American view coming from a distinctly middle-class, Catholic upbringing and the majority of munchkins being raised in poverty.
I had never lived in a poverty-stricken area of the U.S., where a daily barrage of profanity would not be uncommon and possibly include a drive-by shooting or two. At least we didn´t have that going in this town on, I could reason. Click Here to Read Part 2