by Janet Blaser
One morning I was cleaning bat poop off the cushions (cojines in Spanish) on my patio furniture. The precious old man who cleaned the plaza called up to me and asked me what I was doing. In my very best Spanish I proudly explained to him that “Estoy limpiando mis cojones porque los vampiros cacaban sobre ellos.” In other words, I told him I was cleaning my testicles because the vampires pooped on them. I immediately realized my error, but it was too late. The expression on his face never changed and he continued to sweep while staring into space. He was cordial after that, but never overly friendly. I can’t even imagine what was going through his mind.
Learning to speak the language fluently has been a priority for me. Although there are many English-speaking doctors, waiters, insurance agents and so on, it’s empowering to know I can go anywhere and communicate effectively, even if I do continue to make epic blunders (and most of them are still of a sexual nature). Learning to speak Spanish has opened opportunities for me as a single woman that many single women in my age group don’t have: The roller coaster world of dating Mexican men. Oh God.
Dating in Mexico requires skill, intelligence, above all patience, a thick skin and plenty of self-esteem. The Mexican men are handsome and charming and contrary to popular belief, are not all “womanizers.” I’ve preferred dating Mexican men as opposed to age-appropriate gringos because my afore-mentioned fellow expats chase after the gorgeous younger Mexican women. Actually, much of the time it’s vice-versa, but that’s better left for another book. Ahhhh … dating in Mexico. Ironically, the very attributes that a strong-willed, independent American woman needs to date a man from another country, culture and mentality is what makes it a challenge as well. The macho mentality is alive and well here. As much as many of the men like to think of themselves as progressive and open-minded, the macho mentality is in their DNA, bless their handsome, charming hearts. I’ve cried more tears and felt more joy than I ever did in my “other life,” but continue to be open to the possibility that “Señor Right” will find me one day. In the meantime, I’m not looking, and I continue to enjoy my life to the fullest.
I’ve been blessed to have had the opportunity to work remotely. After living here for six years I was laid off from my insurance job in California and decided to try my hand at the restaurant business once again. Along with a romantic partner, we opened Casa Q, which sold “Bagels y Tacos y Mucho Mas!” (Life advice: Never go into business with your sweetheart. It’s a relationship killer.) My house had a long driveway where we put the tables and chairs, and we rented one of the locales (storefronts) in front of the house as a kitchen. We had decent success for a few months, but the grueling hours and stress on the relationship forced us to close. Luckily, I’ve since found another job working remotely and most days I work in my pajamas. I wonder, how did I ever survive working in an office environment?
Living in Mexico has brought me many incredible opportunities I’d never had before. Since I live in a tourist town, there are always tourist activities to participate in. I can do as much or as little as I want. There are miles of beautiful beaches where I can sit under an umbrella and drink beer with my compadres or take a catamaran to one of the small islands to enjoy the day. I can zipline, parasail and hike. But the most life-altering thing I’ve done is buying and learning to ride a motorcycle ... a BIG motorcycle! I can’t imagine my life without it. I laugh when I think that this 62-year-old woman belongs to a motorcycle club, complete with leather vests and patches (and a half-sleeve of tattoos on my right arm). I live to ride and ride as much as possible. It consumes me. Most weekends I ride with a group of friends out to some of the small outlying villages. We ride endless kilometers, have a bite to eat and come home again. As fun as it is to discover new pueblos, it’s all about the ride. The feeling of the wind in your face and the exhilaration of taking curves is indescribable. The opportunity to ride with “the boys” is fantastic. They watch out for me yet demand that I keep up as well. They accept me as a fellow biker and don’t view me as a middle-aged foreign woman who’s old enough to be their mother. (Or grandmother!) I can’t imagine I’d ever have had this opportunity in my “other life.”
Although I’m blessed with many wonderful expat friends, the majority of my friends are Mexican. I was raised in central California in a family with no customs or traditions. My bloodline is a mixture of European and who knows what else; “Heinz 57 Variety” is how I’ve always described myself. We had no traditional Christmas dinner or holidays, no family recipes passed down from generation to generation. I guess one could say we had the typical American culture, which is no culture.
Here I’ve submerged myself in the lifestyle and attitude of my beautiful adopted country and made the traditions and culture my own. I joyfully participate in the Mexican celebration of Day of the Dead and paint myself as a catrina every year. I participate in the annual Carnaval (like Mardi Gras) and even had the honor of being on a float in the parade one year. Home; I’m home. I’ve always marched to the beat of a different drummer and was always the odd girl with the frizzy red hair that never quite fit in. Here in Mexico, although I’m still that odd girl with the frizzy red hair, I do fit in. I’m surrounded by the love and acceptance of the amazing people here.
Like everyone, my life is a struggle sometimes and I get overwhelmed with work, bills and drama, but as I always say, life here is so much better on every level. It’s freer. It’s more joyful. And it’s so much more conducive to making friends. I have more friends here than I’ve had collectively in my entire life. It’s amazing to me to be able to walk down the street and be greeted every few feet by friends and acquaintances. I do believe one must be a little “odd” to survive and thrive in another culture and country. My lifestyle is not a typical one of grandkids, mortgages, IRA funds, vacations and retirement. I was never a “soccer mom” with the white picket fence and mini-van. But this oddball quirky life of mine is a perfect fit for me, for who I know I am.
When I first came back in 2009 there were times when I asked myself where I belonged. It’s been quite a process, but I know now without a shadow of a doubt in my heart and soul that here in Mexico is where I belong. I can’t imagine living in the United States again. This is my home; my forever home.
Susie Morgan Lellero resides happily in her forever home of Mazatlán, Mexico. When not telecommuting she stays busy exploring the highways and byways on her motorcycle and keeping her hands in the bagel business. She continues to describe herself as that “odd girl with the frizzy red hair” and lives in terror of some day being forced to join a knitting club, talk about recipes and flash photos of her non-existent grandchildren. Although her life is a series of “Gee it seemed like a good idea at the time” moments all strung together, after all is said and done, those moments, albeit unconventional, have worked out pretty well after all.
7. “The Constructs We Construct: On Identity, Belonging & Home”
Emilia Rybak
México City, Distrito Federal
Our identity, and how we construct, shape and try to control it, has always fascinated me.
I appreciate that my identity has its fair share of idiosyncrasies. First off, I am a proud first-generation American. I’m not one of those sixth-generation, been-rooted-here-for-decades Americans. I was born and raised in New York City to a mother from Ukraine and a father from Poland. (But don’t let them hear me say that, since their origins no longer primarily define them; after more than 40 years in the U.S. they’re adamantly American.) Looking back, I feel significantly lucky to have multicultural roots, since I do believe they’re one of the many factors that have shaped my ineluctable attraction to other cultures, countries and languages.
My upbringing was littered with family gatherings where various relatives spoke at just-bearably high volumes in Russian or Polish. My babushka (grandmother), or “Baba” as I called her, used to pick up my twin sister and me from school, feed us homemade borscht and speak to us in an
eccentric Russian/English hybrid. While some of my childhood peers had arguably been raised with “purely American” family influences and a strongly U.S.-centric mentality, I felt that my upbringing had been characterized by opinions, behaviors, mindsets and values uniquely developed through the fusion of foreign origins with American perspectives and ways of thinking. My heritage, coupled with growing up in New York City, the epitome of diversity, not only nurtured my interest in other languages and cultures from an early age, but also helped shape a strong desire to seek out diversity of thought and experiences.
I studied psychology and marketing at Duke University, driven by a hunger to understand human behavior. Duke gifted me with the opportunity to experience Latin America for the first time through a program called DukeEngage in Guatemala. The program was funded largely by the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, and I worked with a microfinance organization for two months in both rural areas and the country’s tourist capital, Antigua. The country and all the Guatemaltecos with whom I lived, worked and interacted on a daily basis, from homestay siblings to co-workers to field research survey participants, were so warm, welcoming and full of life—did I really have any other choice but to fall in cultural love? On that plane ride back to N.Y.C. in July 2011, I remember making a steadfast vow to myself: Someday I would be back in Latin America to work and live in the region, and it would be for much longer than two months.
However, upon graduating in 2013, I naturally slid right into the pursuit of the what-I-“should”-dos, working in various roles in marketing and advertising in the Northeast. Clearly this was the path that achieved the very delicate balance between what my parents and society seemingly wanted from me—to make money in a stable, flashy, corporate role—and what I could see myself managing to do in the short-term without losing my sanity, right? After four years of long commutes, high stress, daunting workloads, unreasonable bosses and even a few ethically questionable business experiences thrown in for good measure, I’d had enough. I applied to the Princeton in Latin America Fellowship, which connects recent college graduates to social impact-related projects across Latin America. Upon acceptance into the program I gave my two weeks’ notice at my current job and started preparing for a role in Mexico City at Endeavor, a global non-profit that promotes high-impact entrepreneurship across both developed and developing regions worldwide.
Working at Endeavor Mexico was in several ways a much more enriching experience than my corporate roles back home. For the first time in my career I felt surrounded by people who were truly passionate about what they were dedicating themselves to, creating a communal sense of purpose I felt had been significantly lacking at the large bureaucratic firms at which I’d worked. Amongst the entrepreneurs I supported, I saw the level of success that could be achieved by devoting oneself entirely to something one believed in, not simply to something that pays the bills or attracts attention on a C.V. I also could see the tangible impact that my work, and our work as an organization, had on the entrepreneurs we constantly strove to serve.
I began to gradually question and shift my perception of what a job or a career should entail. How have we come to convince ourselves that the unhealthy, unreasonable and sometimes downright immoral practices and behaviors occurring in many companies are not only permissible, but also even worth sacrificing our well-being for? For the first time I didn’t felt suffocated, constricted or dragged down by the unacceptable elements of corporate life that had been slowly chipping away at me prior to moving abroad.
Certain aspects of the transition to day-to-day life in Mexico City were relatively easy to adapt to, while others, well, not so much. As a born-and-raised New Yorker, the quick rhythm and chaos of the city made me feel at home from the start, yet at times also left me feeling exasperated. I appreciated the quick pulse of the city, with cars streaming down the streets at all hours of the day. Yet I wasn’t as prepared for their daily bouts of relentless honking during rush hour. I liked the unpredictability of the city’s symphony of sounds, from being serenaded by the saxophone player outside my apartment on Sunday mornings to enjoying the cumbia melodies flowing through my window from the taco stands out front. I even learned to love the omnipresent tamales Oaxaqueños street vendors. Yet at times the Mexico City orchestra sounded more like a cacophony and I longed for a small sliver of silence. As my roommate once pointed out, this is a city of countless realities colliding with surrealism, an endearing blend of contradictions that I just can’t help but end up appreciating. It’s tough love, but love nonetheless. And to be fair, not everything took getting used to; one thing I found immediate alignment on between me and my Mexican counterparts was our mutual loathing of Donald Trump. Initially I was lucky enough to find a job opportunity that brought me to this city, but I am now choosing to continue living here because all of these challenges ultimately provide me with that same diversity of thought and experiences I had craved from an early age.
As far as my personal life in Mexico City goes, my first year was filled with some extreme ups and downs. One particularly salient experience occurred on September 19, 2017, just four weeks into my transition to life in Mexico, when we were struck by the largest earthquake to hit the city in 32 years. It was a truly traumatizing yet also uplifting experience, a very difficult juxtaposition of emotions to handle all at once. After accepting the initial feelings of hopelessness and dejection from seeing the extensive damage to my neighborhood and watching one-too-many news segments announcing the rising death toll, I went out to volunteer. I was astonished to see how many people had not only felt but also acted upon a personal responsibility to help with the rescue and clean-up efforts. It truly felt as if almost every chilango had showed up to help their neighbor. Being a small part of this movement of strength and solidarity cemented a highly unique bond with the city I’ve called home over the last year, a connection I most likely will never experience again with any other city.
Once the city had rebounded and gone back to “normal”—more or less—I was lucky enough to take part in some of Mexico’s most exhilarating events in 2018, like watching the Mexico/Germany World Cup game and the ensuing several-hour celebration my friends and I had upon Mexico’s historic win, which we kicked off alongside the parade of loud and proud Mexicans dancing, singing, screaming and hugging at the Angel of Independence. Or Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s historic win in the July presidential election, with hordes of people swarming into the Zócalo to hear his acceptance speech in which he affirmed that he would listen to, serve and respect indigenous communities. My roommate and I sat glued to the TV with tears silently rolling down our faces, utterly moved by the shift in tone of the leadership of the country and what it would mean for marginalized individuals.
Then when the holidays came, I was touched by the utter kindness of my roommate and his family when they offered to take me in for Christmas, opening their home to me while I was still in the process of trying to create mine in a new country. And when I had the chance to begin exploring beyond the bounds of the city, I began discovering just how multi-faceted Mexico’s culture truly is; from eating tlayudas in Oaxaca and taking in Hierve el Agua at sunset, to eating homemade pozole on New Year’s at a friend’s house and celebrating with his family in Guadalajara, to touring the Lagos de Montebello in Chiapas with a local 15-year-old guide. My first year certainly hasn’t been boring by any means, and I can confidently say the positives have outweighed the negatives.
I’m tremendously grateful to have had countless coworkers, friends and acquaintances who went out of their way to help me in times of need, who welcomed me into their circles and who gradually helped me begin to build a comfort zone and ultimately a life here. I’m so glad to have chosen this truly amazing and beautiful place to call home, and this equally fascinating city as part-microcosm, part-anomaly of the country as a whole. To friends, family and strangers alike, whether you’re interested in coming to Mexico to visit for a few days or to settle down for
good, please come and experience more than just a resort in Cancun. I promise there’s a whole world waiting for you if you just open your mind and eyes to see it.
I’ve come to realize that making the transition to living abroad was such a colossal challenge at first because it meant not just leaving my comfort zone, but literally living outside it 24/7. Each day I completed entirely outside of my comfort zone was like overcoming a mini challenge. Each time I experienced a small personal or professional win, it was like taking one of the bricks in the walls of my original comfort zone and moving it to construct a much larger, much more diverse one. Creating a semblance of a new comfort zone in a foreign culture ultimately became one of the most rewarding and enriching aspects of my life abroad.
The new comfort zone is still not complete, and probably never truly will be. Yet seeing how much it has evolved and expanded over the last year shows me just how much personal growth I’ve achieved; a unique and intense level of personal development I’m convinced would be absolutely unattainable if I’d remained in my native country, with my native culture and language. It has been nerve-wracking, baffling and downright exasperating at times to try to embrace a new culture, language and political and economic climate, but successfully navigating this process has been equally invigorating. I feel like a ball of clay, taking a certain shape one day only to be molded into an entirely new one the next, professionally, personally, socially, mentally or culturally. I’ve grown thicker skin. I’ve become more empathetic and less judgmental of other lifestyles and viewpoints. What better experience to have when you’re young, not yet settled down, not 20 years into a career and not yet overwhelmed by regrets and “what-if-I-hads?”