As I mounted my red, Honda SL 175 combination bike a cool drizzle sprinkled Mexico City. The city only had seven million inhabitants then, but still presented a puzzling maze my three week visit hadn’t deciphered. Today’s tourists complain about the lack of highway signs but there were even fewer in 1971. Two possible potholed roads led to the Gulf coast but, but I had no idea how to reach either of them.

I rode Avenida Reforma and took a right where I had been instructed and hopefully headed northeast. Cars zipped by inches from me, spraying my legs with dirty water. At 7,400 feet above sea level, my heavy coat and Army ground cloth/poncho kept me warm. Mexico City ended like a curtain dropped in those days. One second, I was among low adobe houses and then empty, treeless vastness sprawling ahead.

 The absolute last building stood far to the right within a gigantic gritty rock and dirt parking area. I crossed a morass of heavily laden three ton trucks and 1950s model autos to reach the combination mechanic shop, tire repair and trucker’s restaurant. Speaking little Spanish I dismounted and approached some guys in heavy, greasy ponchos. “Veracruz, Veracruz. ¿Dónde está Veracruz?”

Is this the right road?

They grinned and stared. After a moment of amazement over my fair skin they started repeating my poor pronunciation until they figured out what I had asked. The one missing two upper front teeth took my arm, and the four of us walked through the rain past the edge of the restaurant where we could see to the right. He pointed down a narrow broken ribbon of black asphalt that ran across the valley floor and disappeared into huge mountains miles down the highway. “Veracruz. Veracruz!”

I thanked the fellows, checked my bike and gear and mounted. It was mid-afternoon and I only possessed the simple map inside a three-year-old guide to Mexico. I didn’t see much sense in consulting it and headed down the road toward the high mountains as the rain fell harder. Few cars littered 1971 Mexican highways so virtually the only traffic was slow-moving trucks and buses belching diesel exhaust as they climbed.

Somewhere up in the mountains, depending on elevation, fog or heavy mist filled the air despite the rain falling even harder. Mexico’s broken and potholed roads didn’t bother me even after pure blackness took the earth. The road crawled through the mountains at eight to ten thousand feet. No guard rails protected against a tire leaving the pavement and I felt sorry for the outside truckers squeezing by one another. I could glance over the edge and down three or four thousand feet. Sporadic lights indicated there was life in these high valleys. About ten o’clock no trucks passed heading west to Mexico City. Occasionally I caught and passed trucks lumbering east, but the road remained lonely.

The night remained cold and wet as I continued. About one in the morning I pulled up behind a long line of stalled traffic. Truckers spoke to me rapidly and kept pointing ahead and up. I couldn’t really understand what they were telling me. But, I could hear occasional rumbling in the distance I marked down to thunder. After a few moments I remounted and began passing the stalled trucks. Surprisingly the line stretched around curves for well over a mile. Finally, I reached the lead ten-ton truck and stopped. Their lights illuminated a muddy clear road. A good quarter mile ahead two caterpillar bulldozers pushed boulders over the mountain’s edge. I quickly made friends with the three guys driving the lead truck. I had, no we, have a problem. It wasn’t thunder I had been hearing over the bike engine.

Road blocked by rock falls

It’s three in the morning and I don’t speak the language. What’s worse – my lack of fluency isn’t the main problem. Drizzle cutting the fog does nothing to ease the anxiety-induced perspiration soaking the Mexican truckers and farmers crowded together on the narrow, serpentine road. Not a woman or child is to be seen. They’re huddled helplessly in truck cabs. Giant rocks echo, each cracking like individual lightning strikes across the shrouded mountains. Every man strains to see upward. Clack –clack – then more clacks in the distant night signaling huge stones coalescing into a cascade of gigantic rocks rumbling down mountainsides. The pungency of my fright-induced sweat might overwhelm their odors, but no one cares. We glance at the two thousand-foot drop-off, then up and down the road, before darting behind the nearest big rig once again.

The horrific sounds stop and a tangible stillness fills the night. We wait for our hearts to slow and our breathing to become normal. Then it’s relieved grins all around. Laughter and slaps on the back from my new buddies precede a great deal of rapid explanation. I don’t understand a single word, but the tenor carries the meaning. It’ll be ten or fifteen minutes —twenty if we’re lucky— before the next avalanche and we repeat our futile retreat. Each time, I laugh at myself for seeking safety behind a semi. There would be as much hope of damming the Mississippi with the rig as using it to stop those huge tumbling boulders.

We made five or six attempts at running to the bulldozers but never got halfway before giant stones began tumbling again. Hearing the giant stones striking and the crashing of huge trees being ripped from the earth weakens the legs. After our last attempt the road suddenly opened. My new friends tugged my arm, pointed at the bike and with sign language and urgent Spanish made me know we had to move quick before the road closed again. They insisted I couldn’t make it through the mud on the motorcycle. They carried cement blocks and we quickly hoisted the bike on top, covered it with canvas and tied it down. Four of us fit snugly in the cab. I don’t know when I dropped off to sleep but at first light my companions woke me.

We were in the small oil town of Poza Rica. I’d never heard of Poza Rica but the sun was bright and there was no rain. They pointed, and I headed in the direction they sent me, wondering where in heck I was.

****

Motorcycle adventures in Mexico

I’ve traveled in Mexico almost every year since that first avalanche adventure. I discovered Poza Rica, near Papantala and the mysterious ruins of El Tajin are about three hours north of Veracruz City. It took a day to make that distance forty-four years ago. During subsequent trips, I never needed to take that route from the Gulf coast to Mexico City and it became a dim memory. Fifteen years ago I started taking that highway more often. It wasn’t the same primitive road. I figured the Mexican highway department used some of the old route and with better equipment just made a newer road. (They are now building a toll road that will cut between Poza Rica and Arco Norte going to Mexico City and the western cities.)

Five years ago I drove from Poza Rica to Arco Norte when in the middle of the mountain range all traffic was stopped. Highway workers were repairing a bridge ahead. Such stops are fairly common in Mexico and last a long time. Drivers exit their cars and talk with other folks stuck in line. While meeting people, one guy said he knew the old road around the blockage and did anyone want to go with him? I was the only one who decided to follow.

We backtracked about fifteen miles to an Indian town and turned off the highway riding through the pueblo. The road was primitive, without guardrails. In some places half a lane had crumbled and fallen thousands of feet below. We passed rushing waterfall after waterfall and climbed ever higher. I was back on the original 1971 road, perhaps 9,000 feet above sea level at times. The views were spectacular and beat anything I’ve enjoyed in the Sierra Madres or Rockies. I split from my companion and the roads became confusing. Signs indicated pueblos I’d never heard of down steep exit roads. At each choice I took the road that seemed most likely to go northwest. After half an hour of worried travel I reached the main road.

The sudden side trip was a great and unexpected present. I’ll return to that old forgotten road in the near future. For most it would be just an exciting and beautiful ride. However, I’ll need a day or two. I want to photograph the vistas and the villages that remain undisturbed by the modern world and take me back to the primitive Mexico I first knew from the back of a motorcycle.

The author’s book, Mexico by Motorcycle: An Adventure Story and Guide, has garnered numerous five-star reviews, been covered in several magazines, and recommended by expats who have resided in Mexico for years. Perhaps, the top compliment was from a reviewer who wrote, “This reads like a novel.”

The post Mexico by Motorcycle: The Avalanche appeared first on MexConnect.

Mexican driving continues to astonish me even after cruising the country for over fifty years. Like most newcomers, I used to be amazed by driving differences ranging from speed to taking stop signs with a wink. Most of those alternative driving methods have not just grown on me, but I’ve adopted them and even prefer most to our American highway rules and regulations. Why do we gringos stop at a T-junction with no cars in sight? Having solved the main driving differences has allowed me to fixate on more subtle differences new drivers don’t see. They’re too busy negotiating their first encounters with Mexican driving differences from sign placement to what blinker signals might mean. I’ve reached the conclusion vehicle size and space have no relationship for our southern neighbor.

Mexico is noted for narrow highways and the central part of most cities are ancient. Streets are often the size of large alleys. Despite this, transportation devices are the same sizes as in the states. Stand near a street crossing with three-and-four hundred-year-old buildings lining usually damp one-way lanes that allow parking on one side so traffic can squeeze past. In a second or two you will stand there mouth agape as buses and trucks turn into those streets and passageways at speed: the very streets you would swear a VW Beetle would have problems traversing. You’ll believe you have a better chance of returning toothpaste to the tube than entering those streets, even after seeing a giant bus smoothly negotiate the entry.

Another area where Laws Governing Size are suspended involves parallel parking. I often take the time to stand and admire Mexicans parallel park—especially the women—and wish I could do half as well. To fully understand and appreciate the Mexican mastery of this art, it’s important to realize they do so with ease on either side of the street.

Picture a one-way downtown street in Puebla. Three- and four-story colonial stone buildings line the narrow road making it canyon-like and feeling more crowded than it is. There’s parking on each side, leaving a small center lane for traffic flow. Cars and trucks jam the curbs bumper to bumper on each side. Suddenly someone exits his parking spot. The oncoming driver hits his flashers signaling following traffic to stop a second. He speeds past the empty space, stops, and in one swift motion, swerves backward into the space. Traffic flows again. The driver filling the void doesn’t have to inch forward and back turning his wheel so he can fit properly. He correctly parked with the swerve back and pull forward.

I once watched a Mexican lady parallel park on her first attempt in a spot I thought impossible to squeeze into even with twenty backward and forward turns. Needless to say, I never risk embarrassment by attempting to parallel park in Mexico unless I am certain the space would contain at least three cars.

If you visit Mexico, take the time to observe the elasticity concerning the laws of space for drivers. However, should you get behind the wheel for even a moment, keep solidly in mind the laws concerning size are not suspended for gringos. You can’t turn into those narrow streets with the same gusto as a native, nor can you park your compact car in the space the large sedan just exited.

William B. “Bill” Kaliher has traveled Mexico at every opportunity since 1964 by car, bus, train and motorcycle. He has written for the Mexican Ministry of Tourism. Although known for his Mexican travel articles he’s sold work to over 600 publications including The World & I, The Pragmatist and Down Memory Lane. as well as online magazines such as MexConnect.

His book, Mexico by Motorcycle: An Adventure Story and Guide, has garnered mainly five-star reviews, been covered in several magazines, and recommended by expats who have resided in Mexico for years. Perhaps, the top compliment was by a reviewer who wrote, “This reads like a novel.”

The post I swear the laws concerning size are suspended when Driving in Mexico appeared first on MexConnect.

If you break down in the middle of a busy highway, avenue or freeway, hope you are in Mexico and not north of its border. In Mexico, other drivers automatically adjust to the problem, and traffic continues to flow.

Eight or ten lanes hurrying each way during rush hour can be common. Try Avenida Fundadores in Saltillo sometime, especially when some poor soul is changing a tire four lanes to the left of the semblance of a shoulder on a twelve lane road. In the States we’d have twenty-seven wrecks and traffic backed up for miles. Not in Mexico. Nobody slows and drivers at speed allow traffic in the blocked lane to merge. Caution lights, blinking from fellow drivers, alert following and oncoming traffic that something is amiss ahead.

Virtually every mid-sized and larger city in the U.S.A. has a malfunction junction. These entrance or exit turnoffs jam traffic and slow flow to a crawl. The problem is highlighted by near-misses and occasional fender benders. I hate these interchanges but wonder why Mexico doesn’t have the same problems. Their cities have much worse exit and entrance setups, usually more vehicles, but traffics flows without problem— except for the occasional cringing from a gringo like me driving through. Mexico’s potential malfunction junctions don’t have any marked lanes, their exit signs don’t provide nearly the warning distance of ours, and they have many more lanes and side-by-side exit ramps. The junctions are often unimaginable to those driving in just the U.S.A. or Canada, but somehow no one breaks speed, touches a brake, or honks a horn. They continue driving without a thought there could possibly be a traffic problem.

I’ve pondered the differences for years. I’ve discussed this issue with friends and laid awake at night trying to figure out why Mexicans don’t have malfunction junction situations. The only clue I can gather is Mexicans always have to drive defensively in a manner Americans wouldn’t believe.

William B. “Bill” Kaliher has traveled Mexico at every opportunity since 1964 by car, bus, train and motorcycle. He has written for the Mexican Ministry of Tourism. Although known for his Mexican travel articles he’s sold work to over 600 publications including The World & I, The Pragmatist and Down Memory Lane. as well as online magazines such as MexConnect.

His book, Mexico by Motorcycle: An Adventure Story and Guide, has garnered mainly five-star reviews, been covered in several magazines, and recommended by expats who have resided in Mexico for years. Perhaps, the top compliment was by a reviewer who wrote, “This reads like a novel.”

The post Car Troubles and Traffic Flow Patterns appeared first on MexConnect.

Good Reading

The Best How-To Book on Moving to Mexico, by Carol Schmidt, Norma Hair and Rolly Brook

Salsa Verde Press, Laredo, 2009
Available from www.amazon.com (Paperback)

A lot of us now living in Mexico managed in the past to escape the northern climes — in part due to the confidence we developed reading books on how to live in Mexico. Although many now heavily rely on on-line sites like MexConnect.com, comprehensive guides continue to be published in book form and on Kindle as well.

I think the first book I bought about actually living in Mexico was the Howell & Merwin book, Choose Mexico: Retirement Living on $400 a Month. That was back in 1985, but even then, talking to people who had made the leap, I learned that $400 was really awfully minimal living, particularly in places most Canadians and Americans wanted to be: San Miguel de Allende, Puerto Vallarta, the Lake Chapala area. A few years later, in 1997, I bought their slightly updated version, with the title also updated, to Choose Mexico: Live Well on $600 a month. Well, even at $600 it was rather minimal living. The latest version (2007) is simply and more safely titled Choose Mexico for Retirement. Those books by Howell & Merwin introduced me to lots of possibilities, though, and I thank those authors for the information they gave me. Likewise I discovered new things in books like Live Better South of the Border by “Mexico” Mike Nelson, which I passed on to a fellow passenger on Autobus Americanos who wanted to know about AA locations in Mexico. “Mexico” Mike also wrote those useful Sanborn’s Travelog series of guidebooks for drivers to Mexico (1986-1998). I also like the very informative and very useful book curiously titled Mexico: The Owner’s Manual, a new edition just released by International Living.

But still new ones arrive!

The Best How-To Book on Moving to Mexico is written by three people who have made the move, and two of them are familiar to regular readers of MexConnect. Carol Schmidt and Norma Hair met each other in 1979 “when both were on the state board of directors of California NOW.” They lived in RV parks in Arizona and Washington before moving to San Miguel de Allende in May of 2002. Carol connected with www.mexconnect.com, writing columns and moderating their San Miguel de Allende forum. She accumulated, with Norma’s help, enough columns and features to put together a book , San Miguel: Retiring to Mexico on Social Security (Salsa Verde Press, 2006), and she has still more books about Mexico in mind: San Miguel de Allende on a Budget; Falling in Love with Mexico by Bus; and Ten Years in Love with San Miguel. The third editor, Rollins “Rolly” Brook, “after visiting all 50 states in the USA and many countries around the world… found himself most at home in Mexico.” In 2000 Rolly retired to Lerdo, Durango, and from there, in addition to moderating a MexConnect forum, he documents his new life in Mexico on his own website.

Clearly this is no trio on extended vacation. They actually live here… permanently.

These authors are bold and direct. The opening chapter is titled “Why We Say This is the Best How-To Book on Moving to Mexico.” “We deliberately chose the title… because this book is exactly that. You’ll find the rules and the practical advice you expect, plus our personal experiences of what it is like to fall in love with Mexico and make the big move to a happier, healthier, less stress-filled, more fulfilling, fun and creative way of life. Welcome to your journey. And hang loose.”

The book is divided into four parts.

Part One: Your Deal-Breaker Questions: Costs, Health Care, Personal Safety

This covers topics like, “Is it really a quarter to a third cheaper to live in Mexico?” “Health care, most likely your main worry.” “Crime and Personal Safety.”

Each chapter goes into detail. For example, “Heath care…” covers

• Cost of doctors
• ERs and hospital care
• Differences in health care in Mexico
• Medical tourism
• Medicare and Canadian health care programs
• Keeping Medicare Part B
• Varying quality of care
• The two government hospital systems and private hospitals
• Applying for IMSS
• Private insurance plans
• Medical evacuation companies
• Different attitudes toward prescription drugs, hospices, living wills, medical power of attorneys, prepaid funeral plans
• Living in Mexico with disabilities and with HIV/AIDS
• Allergies, amoebas and food poisoning
• Dentistry
• Visioncare
• Alternative and holistic medicine
• Rolly’s experience in a Hospital Angeles ER
• Carol’s detailed report on having two knee replacement surgeries in Querétaro.

Part Two: Where in Mexico Is Best For You?

Carol and Norma chose the historic colonial city of San Miguel with its year-round temperate climate, “many liberal and artsy expats to help them settle in,” a central location, plenty of activities and organizations, and many “free or low-cost happenings….”

Rolly chose to be the only expat in a tiny town in northern Mexico. This chapter gives a “sweeping overview of some of the favorite expat areas in the 31 states of Mexico”. They tell us that:

“Ajijíc [sic] has an outstanding welcome center for newcomers, the Lake Chapala Society. LCS is a former garden home that is now the site of a 30,000-volume lending library, classrooms to learn Spanish or take computer classes, an outdoor café, information centers about the community and about government programs such as immigration and health care, patios for card games and conversation, and rotating medical services such as hearing and vision specialists.”

What about largely undiscovered towns and cities?

“…Colima, about an hour east of Manzanillo in the mountains, giving it a mild year-round climate. It has been voted the city with the best quality of life in the country. Real estate is reasonable, music and other cultural experiences are of high quality, the lifestyle is relaxed and intellectual. Expect Colima to draw more and more expats in the future.”

Part Three: Making the Move

When you’ve made the decision to move to Mexico, here is the nitty-gritty, how to do it. Which Visa do you need? FMT? FM3? FM2? Dual citizen? What about taking pets across the border? What is a menaje de casa? Should I just have a garage sale and buy new in Mexico? What items are prohibited? What about a car? (“Only one vehicle is allowed in your name.”) Can I get a car-importation permit on-line? Liability insurance. Getting Mexican car plates. Should I just buy a Mexican-plated car when I arrive? Do I really need a car?

Part Four: Living in Mexico

Once you’ve arrived and begin to settle in, you need to know how driving is different in Mexico. And you need to know how to find inexpensive accommodations, and how to rent and to buy. You’ll also need to know how to hire a housekeeper, a gardener, or other employees and — should you wish to work — how to get a work permit, how to start a business (teaching English is a popular business for expats).

You’ll want to fit in, and this means learning Spanish, and how to use Mexican banks and ATMs, and how to get phone and internet service, and perhaps even cable and satellite TV. How to make phone calls economically both inside and outside of Mexico. And what should you do about stray animals? About the poverty around you? About politics? And what is the INAPAM card (discount card for senior citizens). And what about all those holidays and celebrations? And how to you type Spanish accents on your English language keyboard? (Alt160 for á for example).

Appendix

The Appendix includes such things as “Grocery Price Comparison between Dallas, TX, and San Miguel de Allende,” March 2009. At Kroger (in Dallas), a head of iceberg lettuce was $1.59; at Mega (in San Miguel) $.53, one third the price. Fresh green beans in Dallas, $1.99, in San Miguel, $0.61. Orowheat multigrain bread, in Dallas $3.99, in San Miguel $2.47. Total Cereal in Dallas $3.48, in San Miguel $1.98.

Mexican Consulates and Embassies are listed, with complete addresses, telephone numbers and email addresses. There is also a list of Mexico’s World Heritage Sites (like the Monarch Butterfly Biosphere Reserve, as well as the town of San Miguel). And there is a list of Pueblos Mágicos, cities that have been declared Magical Cities by the Mexico Secretariat of Tourism.

You also have information on the Vehicle Pollution Control Policy Hoy No Circula, which tells you what days you are allowed to drive in Mexico City (it depends on the last digit of your vehicle license plate).

And finally, Rolly provides in both English and Spanish a sample menaje de casa, the list of household goods you are required to have (five copies in Spanish) when you move your possessions across the border.

Well, hats off to Carol, Norma, and Rolly! The Best How-To Book on Moving to Mexico just might be that best book. I think you better have it handy in the car when you head to Mexico.

The post The Best How-To Book on Moving to Mexico appeared first on MexConnect.

Did You Know…?

Mayhem prevails in many Mexican cities during rush hours. The traffic in some big cities rarely seems to let up, or slow down, as vehicles jockey for the best position before becoming ensnarled in a tangled web of blocked intersections and jam-packed avenues.

Even thirty years ago, a standing joke (pun intended) in Mexico City was that the city’s largest parking lot was actually the ring-road or periférico. Built originally as a means of diverting traffic away from the downtown areas, the periférico (much of it 6 lanes wide in each direction) was swallowed up in the 1960s and ’70s as the city’s boundaries pushed inexorably further and further into the state of Mexico. The periférico no longer helped drivers escape the clutches of Mexico City’s traffic; it actively ensured that many would get trapped in it with no possible means of escape.

A casual observer of the traffic flows in most large Mexican cities could easily be forgiven for thinking that the entire experience is one best described as out-of-control anarchy.

But amazingly, some parts of the apparently chaotic daily movement of tens of thousands of vehicles between home and workplace are very carefully choreographed by traffic signs and police officials.

While most road signs, traffic signals and police gestures are self-evident, and unlikely to cause much confusion, there are some which newcomers need help to interpret correctly.

To help drivers out, police gestures are usually accompanied by penetrating whistles. These are delivered with wonderful over-statement by many traffic policemen, making them fully paid-up members of the Guild of Street Entertainers. It was several years before I discovered that their incessant whistles actually had very specific and well-defined meanings.

In Mexico City and the state of Mexico, a single short whistle means “Stop!”, while two short whistles means “Carry on!”. A single long whistle, however, means “Everyone stop!” Newcomers should be advised that the difference between one short and one long whistle may only become apparent when the vehicle immediately in front of them screeches to a complete, and totally unexpected, halt.

The system sounds simple enough, but, like so many facets of Mexico, it is not quite so simple as it first appears. Almost all traffic regulations are determined at either the municipal or the state, not federal, level. The fine print of traffic statutes therefore varies from one state to the next. The precise body positions used by the police when giving hand gestures (at least those used in directing traffic…), as well as the number, length and meaning of whistles, are all defined in the regulations.

Almost all states agree that one short whistle means “Stop!”, while two short whistles still means “Carry on!”. For other indications, though, the airwaves are somewhat more crowded.

For instance, in the states of Guanajuato and Nuevo León, three or more short whistles means “Speed up!” This is deceptively similar to the situation in Jalisco, where four short whistles means “Speed up!”. However, while in Jalisco, you’d better be aware that three “regular length” (i.e. neither long nor short) whistles are an indication for “All traffic to stop!” Newcomers who slam their brakes on when they hear three normal whistles in Guadalajara should beware of any Guanajuato or Nuevo León plated vehicle immediately behind them, whose driver may already be pressing his or her foot hard down to the accelerator…

Making matters even more complicated, while we have already seen that a single long whistle in Mexico City means “Everyone stop!”, in Jalisco, it officially means “Take care!” or “Proceed with caution!”

So, next time you’re caught in rush hour, or hopelessly lost while trying to navigate through an unfamiliar city, listen carefully, and at least avoid infringing, even accidentally, any of the many sound (pun intended) commands issued by traffic officials.

Drive safely, and remember, “Your children are waiting for you” and “Better late than never!”

Important disclaimer:

Your mileage may vary: the information contained in this article should not be construed in any way as legal advice. No responsibility is accepted for any use or abuse of the information contained herein.

This article is the basis for Chapter 28 in the author’s Mexican Kaleidoscope: myths, mysteries and mystique (Sombrero Books, 2016).

Traffic regulations (full Spanish-language text) on-line:

• State of Mexico:
• Municipality of Monterrey, Nuevo León

Text © Copyright 2006 by Tony Burton. All rights reserved.

The post Did You Know? Different traffic whistles in Mexico mean different things appeared first on MexConnect.

During the 16 years that I have been living in Mexico, I have worked with many International families. They were in our great city mostly as a result of the husband’s work transfer. My contact with these families usually came as a result of their need for help.

Although each family has been different, there was a pattern quite typical of those who were having adjustment difficulties. The wife usually felt abandoned, ignored, and overwhelmed with having to deal with Mexicans. The husband, happy and well-adjusted within his bi-lingual and bi-cultural office, was angry and frustrated by his wife’s apparent unwillingness or inability to “make the best of things.”

Conscious of her unhappiness and unwilling to add “fuel to the fire” these husbands would hold back information about their problems and concerns, further isolating their spouse from marital intimacy. These couples tended to be insulated from the Mexican culture and held rigidly to the customs and rituals of their own country.

There was also a tendency for one or more of the children to experience school problems, which only exacerbated the mother’s belief that a mistake was made by coming to this “polluted, strange, and horrible” place. I would see one international family after another in my office who were coming apart at the seams.

There have been other couples, those who I met either socially or through talks I had been invited to give, that seemed enthusiastic about being in Mexico. These wives, in the same predicament as the others, viewed most things as a challenge. Sure, they too were annoyed by their difficulty communicating with the maid or the chauffeur or the gardener.

They also suspected that these workers were trying to pull a fast one given the wives insecurity about dealing with them in Spanish. As with their friends who were having difficulty adjusting, these wives also felt somewhat abandoned by their suddenly work-a-holic husbands, but found that the distance from their spouse could be compensated, to some degree, by their newly-found social contacts and with the excitement of trying to learn Spanish .

The husbands of these wives benefited greatly by knowing that their spouse was responding positively to the demands of being in a foreign country. Having a secure home front enabled them to work more efficiently and successfully on the job. These executives seemed to feel more at ease. They made a concerted effort to speak Spanish, not liking the fact that their Mexican counterparts had to struggle so much to communicate in English. They looked to socialize with Mexican families as they wanted to become immersed within the Mexican culture. They realized that their tour was limited and wanted to make the most of their time.

Needless to say, the children of these couples tended to fare better than their unhappy co-patriots. They enjoyed eating tacos and enchiladas as much as going to McDonald’s and Dominio’s Pizza. They made friends with their Mexican classmates and did not feel the need to stick with the social cliques formed around Nationality. They enjoyed making trips into the Republic and complained much less about the less-than-perfect hotel accommodations. What factors contributed to these marked differences between families? More importantly, what could be done to help families make a better adjustment to living in Mexico?

In my seminars for newly-arrived families, I ask the couples to take two psychological inventories. One is the Myers-Briggs and the other is the FIRO-B. The Myers-Briggs measures four dimensions of personality: Extroversion – Introversion, Sensing – Intuition, Thinking – Feeling, and Judging – Perceiving. The FIRO-B provides a reading about one’s interpersonal orientation in the areas of Inclusion, Control, and Affect.

Certain personality types tend to facilitate adjustment to Mexico. The people who adjust better to international moves tend to be more extroverted, have greater access to their intuition, are more sensitive to others’ feelings, strive more consistently for harmony in their interpersonal relationships, and are able to let things take their natural course. The others, who like to do things in orderly and structured ways, who tend to be more impersonal and analytical, and whose life style is characterized by an imposing and domineering attitude, will tend to find it more difficult to live peacefully in Mexico.

It is also helpful to feel more comfortable with the unexpected, as life in Mexico tends to be unpredictable. Those individuals who like clearly and consistently-defined rules will find that life in Mexico will be a continual source of stress.

Families who know how to share their feelings also find adjustment much easier. If, in addition to the normal difficulties of adjusting to a foreign country, one feels inhibited to share his/her toubles, more serious problems will emerge. Talking is an essential antidote to culture shock.

Although unrelated to personality, the amount of accurate information the family received prior to coming to Mexico is essential for a successful adaptation. Many companies, without a clear idea of Mexico or with personnel directors who are overly zealous for the executive to accept the transfer, will present an unrealistic picture of doing business and living in Mexico City. Both the executive and his family hear marvelous things about housing, schooling, availability of household help, and social life that make the offer almost too good to be true. The executive is often given incomplete information about the job drawbacks and is not prepared to deal with the unexpected problems.

Having to face the continual surprises oftentimes leads the executive and his family to feel betrayed or cheated by the company. This may then cause the family to feel resentful and much less willing to put-up with the various difficulties that are inevitable for the newly-arrived. To make matters worse, in the face of continual complaints by the executive, the company may become less responsive to the family’s needs, thereby exacerbating the already difficult situation.

Similarly, the executive himself may withhold information from the family so as to ensure their acceptance of the move. Once in Mexico, the family may become overwhelmed with how different life is than what they expected. Their experiences then become tainted by a negative filter of anger and resentment and nothing seems to be satisfying. Families in which such deceit can occur usually have other interpersonal problems which further complicate the adaptation process.

There are, however, basic personality traits which have a more direct relationship with the nature of one’s ability to thrive in Mexico. These traits include: the ability to be flexible, both in the sense of schedules and routines and in relation to one’s own identity (more about this later), being tolerant and patient with people who have different habits, ideas, and ways of viewing life and relationships, a strong sense of adventure and a desire to learn, as well a having the good fortune of not being overly judgmental in terms of what is “right” and “wrong” or “good” and “bad.”

In trying to understand what leads a person to be flexible, tolerant, patient, open to others, adventuresome, and willing to learn from and about others I have come to the conclusion that humility is the primary ingredient. Humility in the sense that one has a deep-rooted belief that s/he is truly equal to everyone else and that no one culture, society, religion, social group, or nationality has a monopoly on truth.

Such humility is often based on an open and flexible self concept or self image. The individuals who judge Mexicans to be inferior in one way or another, do so as a result of exalting their own way of being or their manner of doing things. Frequently (not always), this “holier than thou attitude” is a defensive reaction to a basic and often unconscious feeling of insecurity. In a sense, one holds on to his/her life style because there is an underlying and erroneous belief that their sense of psychological well-being depends on such routines, habits, values, and ways of relating.

This sense of deprivation (that is, being deprived of one’s normal way of being and acting), often leads people to camouflage their anxiety and the feeling of being disconnected with anger and impatience towards external events–the traffic, pollution, informality of the Mexican, distrust of the household help, or inability to get things done on time. This is not to say that such events are not troublesome or as infuriating to the well-adjusted. The well-adjusted, however, take such things in stride. It rarely provokes the emotional crisis typical in the poorly-adapted.

During the first months of an international move, most, if not all, of us usually are ignorant of the social and interpersonal rules of behavior, become uncomfortably dependent upon others for help, and feel mostly insecure about whether or not we will be accepted by the nationals. Those who do not compulsively need to feel knowledgeable, independent, self-sufficient, or instantly accepted and respected by others are able to take the time necessary to learn about the host culture and give nationals a chance to become familiar with them.

They are not compelled to impose their way of doing things because they are not inappropriately attached to their routines, habits, or typical ways of relating to others. The well-adjusted are well adjusted precisely because they have already learned the relativity of habits and customs, and know that, at least for the time being, they have to assume a somewhat inferior position.

The more rigid we are in our demands for being someone of importance, being someone whose value and skills must be instantly recognized, and for being someone who “deserves” to be treated with respect and deference, the more we are going to resist adapting to Mexico. The more we believe that our needs must be attended to regardless of the way things are done here, the more we will perceive Mexico to be a hostile place to live.

If, on top of this, our spouse and family consistently downplay or ignore any emotional or practical difficulties we have during the initial phases of cultural adaptation, our problems will be unfortunately compounded.

Those who come to Mexico with a strong sense of Self, based upon a humbling awareness of both the favorable and less-than-favorable aspects of their personality, will usually be more accepting of other life styles. They will be more tolerant of others’ customs and habits, and feel less obligated to either accept or criticize them. They can maintain certain of their values without having to be critically defensive about why they are they way they are. The adage, “Live and let live” is a natural part of their life as they know that no one is closer to God or blessed with “Universal Truth.”

The people who can adapt successfully to another country may even decide that they do not like living there. Their decision, however, is based upon having really given it a try and realizing that it is just “not for me.” No criticisms. No exaggerations. No implied inferiority. Just not for me.

The post Personality and Adjustment – The Foreign Executive in Mexico appeared first on MexConnect.

• Part 1 provides an Introduction and Interpersonal effects.
• Part 2 – Intrapersonal Symptoms

During the time that I have been living in Mexico, I have worked with many international families. They were in Mexico City mostly as a result of the husband’s work transfer. The contact with these families, however, usually came as a result of their need for help.

Although each family has been different, there was a pattern quite frequent among those who were having adjustment difficulties. The executive husband was overworked, yet, stimulated by the challenge of working in Mexico. The satisfaction of contributing and being an important member of an international team more than compensated for the long hours and being continually frustrated with the way business was done in Mexico.

The wife, on the other hand, had quite a different experience. Unable to work and confined to her walled-in house, she usually felt isolated from friends, family, and familiar surroundings. She had to struggle to share her intimate space with a maid she couldn’t understand and was unfortunately separated from her husband for longer and longer periods of time. She felt abandoned, ignored, and overwhelmed. The husband, doing his best to keep his professional head above water, became increasingly more impatient with his wife’s constant phone calls to the office. On the one hand, he wanted to be attentive and sympathetic to his wife’s dilemma. On the other, he was angry and frustrated by his wife’s apparent unwillingness or inability to “make the best of things.”

Being conscious of her unhappiness and unwilling to add “fuel to the fire”, the husband would hold back information about his problems as well as stifle his anger and irritation with his wife’s inability to cope. While there may have been some benefit to such a stoic response, the husband’s silence only served to further isolate his spouse. Sensing her husband’s impatience and disapproval, the wife felt that much more misunderstood and cut-off from the love and attention she so desperately needed. There is no wonder why these couples sought out psychological consultation.

While these wives were the most obviously troubled by the transition to Mexico, there was always an assortment of marital and family issues which contributed significantly to their anxiety and difficulty adjusting. In some cases, for instance, the husband had a pattern of ignoring or minimizing his wife’s feelings and problems. Even under the best of circumstances, the marriage was strained. With the added problems of struggling to live and work in Mexico, the wife’s frustrated needs for attention, understanding, and companionship pushed her to the edge. With a more sensitive and attentive husband, such women might have been able to make a more positive adjustment.

Within these families, there was also a tendency for one or more of the children to experience school problems. This only exacerbated the mother’s belief that a mistake was made by coming to this “polluted, strange, and horrible” place. Their problems caused considerable stress for the mother who was left alone to find a way to help them. Problem compounded problem and it soon became too much to bear. One international family after another, coming apart at the seams, would pass through my consulting room.

Adjustment to Mexico, however, does not have to be this way. In future commentaries, I will share some of the success stories and what was done to ensure a positive and happy tour in Mexico.

The post Adjusting to Mexico: Transitional anxiety – Part 3, an overview appeared first on MexConnect.

• Part 1 provides an Introduction and Interpersonal effects.
• Part 3 – Overview

Moving to a foreign country makes enormous demands upon our psyche. Not only do we have to deal with the stress of leaving home, we also have to struggle to find the way to live within a country whose culture, society, and language are so different from our own. For some, this double challenge can become overwhelming and lead to a variety of psychological and emotional reactions.

Depression. Depression is a reaction to loss. When under the throes of transitional anxiety, it is more likely that the individual will focus on what s/he no longer has available. While the losses of transition are quite personal, some of the more common losses include: the loss of freedom (“What happens if I get lost in the car? I wouldn’t even know how to ask for help!”), the loss of contact with friends and relatives, the loss of a predictable life (the uninterrupted flow of electricity is never guaranteed), the loss of feeling self-sufficient and independent, the loss of knowing what is being said between the lines, and the “simple” losses of one’s everyday routines. Once depression sets in, it is possible that the person will experience insomnia, fatigue, lethargy, and a need to avoid contact with others.

Annoyance and Irritation. Have you ever sat in a room with people who all seem to know what is going on and your ears are so clogged that you cannot hear a thing? There is a sense of being in a fish-bowl, out-of-touch with everyone and everything. Coming to Mexico confronts the foreigner with a barrage of unfamiliar social, professional, and interpersonal rules (for example, how to relate to servants, how to determine what is being expected from you within social and professional situations, and how to get your point across to others without being aggressive or appearing insecure). For some, not knowing what to do keeps them on the defensive and hypersensitive to others’ behavior. At times, this state of irritation becomes chronic and overflows into relationships that otherwise would be quite tranquil.

Confusion and Withdrawal. One of the more common reactions to persistent anxiety is that of confusion and withdrawal from the perceived source of the problem. Some seek refuge from the demands of adapting to Mexico by isolating themselves from Nationals or from those who do not share their negative perceptions of Mexico and Mexicans. In some cases, the anxiety related to being in Mexico forces certain foreigners to withdraw emotionally from their family members which only creates greater family instability. For some, separating from some of the routines considered untouchable (the lunch hour, favorite holidays, family ceremonies) and realizing just how relative everything is leads them towards a certain existential confusion. In the face of such angst, some find refuge in solitude and silence.

Loneliness and Boredom. Being unable to meet the challenge of adapting to Mexico, some individuals become overwhelmed with loneliness. The loneliness results from the defensive reactions described above, as well as from being cut-off from the tried and true. These people often bemoan the fact that they are not with their “best” friends or can no longer go to their “favorite” places. The farther away they are from home, the more these people and places take on a bigger-than-life aura. In comparison to the old routines and familiar activities, Mexico has nothing to offer! This reaction occurs frequently with adolescents who struggle with the additional burden of having less freedom of movement and less opportunity to explore their environment. The experience of boredom at times is a camouflage for fear or depression.

Behavioral Excesses. Both here and back home, eating too much, sleeping too much, cleaning too much, taking too much medication, and drinking excessively are ways of calming the anxiety, loneliness, boredom, and depression. Without proper support and friendly advice (which is unlikely given their isolation and the need to maintain a mask within their new social group), these individuals run the risk of falling so deep into an emotional hole that climbing out often requires professional help. Some executives find that they get caught-up in the long lunches so typical within the Mexican business environment. Their professional insecurity or the need to “get along” with their Mexican colleagues may make it difficult for them to set appropriate limits, and, as a result, eat and drink much more than they prefer or enjoy.

Psychosomatic Illness. Despite our best attempts to repress the painful emotions of an unsuccessful adaptation to Mexico, our bodies will absorb the emotional stress and develop physical symptoms. Not only does the physical symptom provide a symbolic expression of the emotional trauma, it enables the person to get the help and attention that is so desperately needed (without having to risk being emotionally vulnerable). The more common psychosomatic problems experienced by the executive and his/her family are: lower back aches, indigestion, high blood pressure, dizziness, chronic colds and other respiratory disturbances, as well as headaches, insomnia, and fatigue.

Loss of Self-esteem. The loss of self-esteem for the executive frequently stems from his unexpected difficulties on the job. Despite doing everything “by the book,” being as respectful as he can, even struggling to speak in Spanish, he is not getting results. Furthermore, the home office seems unsympathetic to his explanations that “things are just not done the same way down here.” The less effective he feels, the more he pushes, and the more ineffective he becomes. The non-working spouse often suffers from what is referred to as “ego-deflation.” She begins to feel useless and unproductive. It is extremely difficult to feel motivated to explore, go out and meet new friends, or provide the emotional support needed by other family members when feeling worthless.

In some families making the adjustment to Mexico, problems develop as a result of a disparity between the self-esteem of the executive and his spouse. Some executives are provided a privileged position: an important role in the Mexican subsidiary, bi-lingual assistants who are eager to satisfy his every beck and call, an attentive chauffeur, housing and tuition allowances, and a chance to finally save some real money. His wife, on the other hand, is feeling more and more deflated. She may begin to resent her husband’s successes and feels a need to shoot down his rising star. The contrast between his feeling powerful and admired on the job (oftentimes for the first time in his career) and struggling with his wife’s disdain forces an emotional wedge between them. The greater the distance, the worse they both feel.

In other cases, the executive feels guilty about how his wife is suffering and feels painfully inept and useless to help her. Rather than lend a loving and attentive hand, he slowly withdraws or falls into a defensive stance in which he is critical or minimizes the wife’s pain. It is at this point that she begins to feel betrayed, abused, and abandoned–the ingredients for a debilitating crisis. The loss of self-esteem runs deep within many of the symptoms described above. Learning new behaviors, while at first uncomfortable, awkward, and distressing, will eventually expand one’s behavioral repertoire. Developing new ways of relating to others, understanding just how relative everything is (Independence Day, for instance, can be July 4 or September 16 and be equally as valid), and realizing that no one has a monopoly on truth will eventually lead to a healthier self-esteem. But, it takes work.

• Part 3 – Overview

The post Adjusting to Mexico: Transitional anxiety and interpersonal effects – Part 2 appeared first on MexConnect.

As many international families can attest, adjusting to life in Mexico City or other major city in Mexico is a unique challenge. Some families, unfortunately, do not fare too well. In this article, some of the more common symptoms of a difficult personal and social adjustment to Mexico will be discussed.

These symptoms, commonly referred to as “culture shock” can be divided roughly into two broad categories: interpersonal and intrapersonal. The interpersonal symptoms affect the way the individual relates socially, while the intrapersonal symptoms are internal emotional and psychological reactions.

It is important to remind the reader that these so-called symptoms of culture shock are basically anxiety reactions. When confronting the demands of an emotional, social, and professional adaptation to Mexico, many people find that they are not sure how to behave or how to understand the Mexican’s behavior. Furthermore, there is a great sense of uncertainty and insecurity surrounding even the most simple of activities (as when confronting the different denominations of money on an impatient and long check-out line). Feeling ignorant, dependent, insecure, and trapped within a confusing maze of social and professional rules lead to what can be called, “transitional anxiety.”

The interpersonal symptoms include the following: excessive concern over cleanliness, excessive fear of servants, extreme dependence upon ex-pats, undue concern about being cheated, robbed, or injured, isolation from nationals, and feeling overwhelmed by normal family and marital conflicts. The intrapersonal symptoms are: depression, annoyance and irritation, confusion and withdrawal, loneliness and boredom, behavioral excesses, psychosomatic illness, and a debilitating loss of self-esteem.

The Interpersonal Symptoms

Excessive concern over cleanliness. One of the clearest symptoms of anxiety is worrying excessively about keeping things clean and neat. The struggle to maintain order is an external manifestation of the need to control the many difficult and troublesome feelings inherent in an international move. This form of anxiety frequently leads the person to believe that everything is dirty and germ-infested. Oftentimes, this belief leads to compulsive cleaning, an exaggerated reaction to colds and infections, and to incessant complaining about “how things are done” in Mexico. The reality of Mexico’s pollution serves as an objective mask for this mostly psychological reaction.

Excessive suspicion of workers. Related to the obsessiveness about cleanliness, is an intense and unrealistic suspicion of maids, chauffeurs, gardeners, servicemen, and subordinates. This paranoia stems from the painful combination of being unable to communicate appropriately, feeling ignorant about the proper etiquette and social rules, and struggling with any number of assaults on one’s ego (as when the executive doesn’t know how to get his subordinates to respond as he would like or the non-working spouse feels useless in her forced role of “dependent”). The insecurity, anxiety, loneliness, and feeling of being disconnected from the familiar are projected onto the Mexican. It is always easy to deal with an external threat than the reality of one’s feelings.

Extreme dependence on expatriates. When under the pangs of anxiety, there is a natural tendency to hold on to what is familiar and known. Given the personal, familial, and social stresses of the initial phases of an international move, it is typical for people to feel somewhat lost and disconnected. One of the surest ways of feeling more secure and “at home” is to be with others who “speak your own language.” Literally and figuratively. Such dependence, however, also serves to isolate the ex-pats and insulate them from the Mexicans and Mexican culture. They become a prisoner, in a sense, of their own habits and customs.

Undue Concern About Being Cheated, Robbed, or Injured. While Mexico does have a shadow side, it is basically a city of law and order. As with any major urban area, one needs to take the necessary precautions in order to live, work, and socialize safely. When the anxiety and insecurities build up, it is not uncommon for people to view their immediate world through the veil of fear. When normal worry and caution become symptomatic, one’s life is severely restricted. Trips to the supermarket and bank are perceived to be a journey into the war zone. One’s life becomes increasingly more restricted to the safety of the home or to outings with known and trusted friends.

Isolation From Nationals. As might be expected, if the newcomer to Mexico suffers from the symptoms described above, s/he will find it nearly impossible to socialize comfortably with Nationals. These individuals might rationalize, “I really don’t have anything against the Mexicans. It’s just ….I don’t know. I just don’t feel comfortable around them.” Under the weight of transitional anxiety, in the face of a continual bombardment of difficult-to-assimilate information, and with an increasing sense of isolation from the tried and true, it is quite understandable that these emotional reactions will lead to “The Mexican” becoming a useful target. It is believed mistakenly that by avoiding the Mexican and the Mexican ways one can protect him/herself from the psychological turbulence brewing inside.

Feeling Overwhelmed by Normal Family and Marital Conflicts. Everyone has family conflicts. With all of the talk about dysfunctional families, we have lost sight of the fact that it is impossible to live intimately with others without conflict. Under normal circumstances, these conflicts are managed more or less effectively. Given the undercurrent of impatience, intolerance, irritability, and a painfully low threshold of frustration which underlie all symptoms of transitional anxiety, even the most mundane of family difficulties can seem like an enormous burden. As one corporate wife bemoaned, “Even just thinking about what to tell the maid to make for dinner seemed too much of a burden.” The emotional package that families bring with them expand geometrically when one or more members are unable to adapt successfully to Mexico. Such symptoms are often contagious. As one member suffers, others will to.

• Part 2 – Intrapersonal Symptoms
• Part 3 – Overview

The post Adjusting to Mexico: Transitional anxiety and interpersonal effects – Part 1 appeared first on MexConnect.

This was intended to be a straightforward article on driving to Nogales from Guadalajara and back, with information on tolls, distances, hotels, restaurants, etc. However, a young Chicano in a brand new truck changed all that on our return journey. Hence, the use of the word “accident” in the title of this piece. Our little escapade has been a salutary learning experience and perhaps I can pass on a few things we learned to people who might face similar difficulties some day.

I suppose when we Americans and Canadians set out on a long drive through Mexico, there’s always the fear in the back of our minds of what might happen if we have an accident. Added to the trauma of the accident itself, is the extra element of being in a foreign, and sometimes unpredictable country, and of not being fluent with the language.

Anyway, it happened to us on Highway 15 at 7.45 a.m. on September 23 heading south from Los Mochis towards Culiacán, on the west coast of Mexico. Hurricane Nora had passed close by the day before and the evidence was apparent in the muddy streets of Los Mochis and the flooded fields all around us. The evening before, when we checked into our usual stopping off place, Colinas Resort Motel, the building was in total darkness because of a power failure. So we drove into the town, where mud and water still lay about the streets. However, when we wakened the next morning, even though it was raining, there seemed no reason not to resume our journey. We had 500 miles to go and wanted an early start.

The other signs of the recent storm were the literally hundreds of pot holes in the surface of the toll road, some of them dangerously deep. They were enough to make us slow down and try to stay away from other traffic so we could negotiate the spaces between the holes more easily. Most other drivers were progressing in the same fashion. My wife was driving and there seemed to be no problem. I was doing a crossword puzzle. We had been away from our home in Mexico for almost seven weeks and this was the last day of our trip. Spirits were high. We couldn’t have been more relaxed.

About 100 kilometers south of Los Mochis the driver in front of us slowed down, because of another minefield of pot holes, and we slowed down, too. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a red truck appeared behind us, travelling fast, hitting our Dodge Caravan squarely in the rear. In those few seconds, a whole lot of things got abruptly changed.

No one was seriously hurt, although my wife had a bad cut on the back of her head which bled rather dramatically in the early stages. Both cars were badly damaged – ours much more than the truck that hit us. There was a lot of damage to the rear of our van. There was incredible turmoil inside the van.

Several things happened in the next few minutes as we all tried to get our heads around the brute fact of the accident and what we were supposed to do. My wife, Cecilia, who has a 30 year background in insurance, was concerned about two things: the cut on her head, which was bleeding freely, and calling an insurance adjustor from the list of adjustors which came with our insurance package. In addition, she was fighting a feeling that she was going to faint at any moment. It was then that a Mexican, who spoke English appeared, drove up and offered to take her for medical attention in Culiacán, which we didn’t realize was a good 100 kilometers down the road. His name was Rubén Arel. He was a resident of Los Mochis and he was going to pick up his wife at Culiacán airport. From the clínica Cecilia would be able to call the adjustor and tell him about the accident.

It seemed like a good idea at the time and Cecilia drove off with Rubén. In actuality, it wasn’t such a great thing to do. As a matter of fact, a policeman or a lawyer in a more uptight country than Mexico would call it “leaving the scene of an accident.” However, we weren’t thinking straight and that’s what she did.

When Rubén got to the first toll booth he told them of the accident and things happened fast. In no time at all there were two officers from the Policia Federal de Caminos, two toll road officials, two tow trucks and an insurance adjustor on the scene. Photos were taken. People started writing reports.

There were two young men in the truck that hit us. The driver and owner, Rubén Rodriguez, 28 years old, was a resident of Arvin, California. He was on his way to Michoacán. He was the only one on the scene who spoke good English and Spanish. He had just paid $23,000 for his shiny new red Ford F125 truck. Unfortunately, he had committed the stupid error of bringing it to Mexico without spending a little more money to buy Mexican auto insurance.

In very short order both vehicles were towed about 12 kilometers to the police pound in the nearby town of Guamuchil (pop. 75,000). The rain continued to pour.

In that first hour or two there was much to do. The inside of our van was a horrible mess. The tow truck had hitched it up at the rear end and, on the ride into town, the tow truck’s back wheels sprayed water and mud through our broken back window, soaking and soiling everything. It wasn’t only our stuff: we were carrying a few bags and suitcases for friends who had just cleaned out a storage locker in San Diego. Also, a lot of things were smashed or damaged. Plastic bottles of gooey items like sun-screen were ripped open. Packages of foodstuffs we had bought in California were torn apart. The impact of the accident had mixed everything together perfectly. Bits of broken glass were sprinkled throughout. The nice new computer I had bought was covered in wet mud. It was one of those moments when you’d just as soon be dead.

In between clean up chores I checked at the police station next door to see what was happening. It was there that I learned one important thing I never knew before. I’ve since found out that a whole lot of people aren’t aware of it and – and it’s well worth knowing. When you have an accident on a toll road in Mexico, you automatically have accident insurance. You buy it when you pay your toll. That at least explained why a toll road insurance adjustor arrived on the scene so quickly, taking pictures and making notes.

As I understand it, most – but not all – toll roads in Mexico have this insurance benefit through Commercial Mexicana. So far I haven’t been able to find out which ones do and which ones don’t. I suppose you could always ask when you pay your toll. And there’s a catch. You only qualify if you have insurance of your own in the first place. The benefit is that the toll road insurance takes care of the initial problems, like medical treatment, towing, and repairs. Then the two insurance companies – the toll road’s and yours – settle everything at a later date. This was some comfort, at least in the early going, because we weren’t sure how everything was going to work out.

There’s one other very tangible benefit to all of this: namely, the toll road company pays the deductible on the repairs. As the deductible in our case is U.S. $500, or about 725 Canadian pesos, that’s a considerable benefit.

Ironically, it was Rubén Rodriguez, the man who ran into us, who told me about the insurance. As a matter of fact, he was the only person I met in the early going who spoke English. The other thing he told me was that he wasn’t covered. First because he was clearly the one who hit us. Second, because he didn’t have insurance of his own. Needless to say, he wasn’t a happy camper.

Rubén was also the one who was translating our side of the story for the police and the insurance adjustor. Naturally I was uncomfortable with that. A more neutral party would have been preferable. After all, Rubén at one point was trying to say that we were stopped on the highway and he couldn’t avoid us. However, the two cops and the adjustor obviously weren’t buying it. After all we were travelling on a wide two-lane highway. And why on earth would we stop in the middle of a major highway? Rubén, in fact, got a pretty stern talking to from the police chief and the adjustor. One didn’t have to be a linguist to understand what they were saying. They were sympathetic to his personal plight, but he was on his own.

One of the problems in those first hours was that my wife had disappeared with all of the papers pertaining to our car. In her desire to call an insurance adjustor she had taken everything – permits, policies, licences, passports, visas. When we’re travelling we keep them all in the same plastic envelope and she had taken the whole package. This naturally presented a problem as policemen and insurance adjustors don’t do anything until they’ve filled out a raft of forms and inspected a lot of documents. Also, Cecilia was the driver. They wanted to talk to her and not to me. It was clear there would be no progress until Cecilia showed up – and no one knew where she was. Also, Rubén was a very worried man because if Cecilia had serious injuries it was going to add another bunch of complications to his life.

Sometime in the middle of that rather confused morning Cecilia finally phoned. I have no idea how she got the number. However, as everyone seemed to be equipped with mobile phones I imagine the link was made from the clínica where she was being treated. She had a few stitches in her head but she was okay. I told her where we were and she arrived a couple of hours later, driven by Rubén, the man who had taken her to Culiacán, and his wife, Patricia.

All the police and insurance procedures began at that point and Rubén and Patricia hung around long enough to make sure that there would be no problem for us. In all, Rubén devoted quite a few hours that day to Cecilia’s well being when he clearly didn’t have to. To us, it was yet another example of the kindness of Mexicans that we all run into from time to time. He even left us his address and phone number in Los Mochis, just in case we needed further help. One wonders how many American or Canadian drivers would offer that kind of assistance to a couple of Mexican drivers who had had an auto accident on the other side of the border.

Once the forms were filled out we were all free to go. We hired a local man to load up his truck with our belongings. We had 21 boxes and bags and suitcases, most of them wet and muddy and we went to the Motel York on the edge of town. Yes, that’s right – the Motel York, in Guamuchil. Everyone said it was the place to go and they were right. It’s at least a four-star establishment. There, despite our bodily aches and pains (which, surprisingly, were to continue for three more weeks) we spent the next forty eight hours cleaning and drying the contents of our bags and suitcases and running up a sizeable laundry bill.

The next day we found our insurance adjustor, the man Cecilia had gone looking for in the first place. To our surprise, he lived a mere five minute drive from the Motel York. His name was Hector and, although he didn’t speak English, he soon returned with an English-speaking friend – possibly the only English-speaking person in that town. When Hector took over, the toll road adjustor bowed out of the picture. Our car had already been taken to a body shop and we had estimates. We weren’t comfortable with them; they seemed low to us but we persuaded ourselves that labor charges are much less than in the U.S. In any event we didn’t seem to have a lot of choice. We had to go along with Hector’s recommendations.

It still took three days and nights in Guamuchil to get the whole thing settled – all at our expense. The repairs were estimated to take two or three weeks, depending on the availability of parts. Then there was nothing else to do except hire Hector to take us and our belongings in his truck to Culiacán, about 110 kilometers down the road.

Incidentally, the free road was in infinitely better condition than the toll road. There were no topes, no pot holes, no villages, and no trucks along the whole length of it. The residents of Guamuchil think people are crazy to actually pay to drive on the toll road, which is in disgraceful shape. Frankly, I hold the toll road company responsible for our accident. I know we gringos go on about the great toll roads in Mexico but maybe the libres aren’t always as bad as we all think.

Our initial plan was to rent a van in Culiacán and load it up and drive home and then leave the van at Guadalajara airport. Little did we know that what sounds easy in the U.S. or Canada isn’t so simple in Mexico. Before we could rent a vehicle we had to go through a character check, which involved Hertz phoning our friends in the Ajijic/Chapala area to find out if we really were who we said we were. Once that was completed, we were informed that the cost of picking up a van in Culiacán and leaving it in Guadalajara would be U.S. $350. That’s because they would have to send a man from Culiacán to Guadalajara to drive it back. In Mexico they just don’t exchange vehicles between offices the way we do further north. If we agreed to that, then there was the car rental, the gas, the tolls, the mileage. The total bill was heading up towards the Cdn. $1,000 mark at which point we decided to leave our belongings in our hotel and take a bus.

Fortunately, the management of the Tres Ríos Hotel in Culiacán agreed to look after our considerable collection of luggage, including the computer, while we went back to Ajijic. Weeks later, when we hired a friend to take us back there to collect it, everything was safe and sound.

During the first few weeks we were told that the repair shop in Guamuchil was waiting for a door to be delivered from the U.S. Mexican doors don’t fit Canadian and U.S. vehicles. However, the only way we ever got any report was by repeatedly phoning Guamuchil. A major source of frustration for us was that no one at either insurance company ever called us back to give us a report in the first two months of the accident. The lack of communication was total and complete. Even when someone would promise to phone us on a certain day or at a specific hour, we were never called, ever . We felt trapped between two insurance companies. In fact, our local insurance agent got quite testy when we even mentioned the subject to him. He said it was the other company’s responsibility.

My wife has years of experience handling insurance claims. As far as she was concerned, one’s agent is the first person anyone calls to get answers or action. Our man just didn’t seem to see it that way.

Eventually, however, after eight weeks – surprise! – we did finally get a call from our insurance company’s supervisor of adjustors in Leon to say that the company was getting frustrated with lack of progress in Guamuchil and had decided to bring the car to Guadalajara and have it repaired there in a much more professional shop. However, again, it still took another two weeks of waiting and phoning to confirm that this had even been done. In fact, we were so mistrustful of everyone by this time that we went into Guadalajara to see the car for ourselves. That turned out to be a very depressing experience.

My wife had a good cry when she saw the car in Guadalajara. Not only was it absolutely stripped to the metal throughout the interior, but a lot of things were missing. We had been told to take everything we could when we left it. We didn’t imagine that included the back seat, the carpets, or all the mirrors, which were all gone. Also missing was a rack that held the towing bar, which had been welded under the rear of the van. Somebody had been determined. The insurance company’s reassuring response was that the car would be restored to the way it was before the accident. I think we can be excused for finding that hard to believe.

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Well, it took another five weeks before we returned from a trip to Mexico City and found a message waiting for us – come and pick up the car.

That essentially is the end of the story. To our surprise, we were delighted with the repairs to the vehicle. Our back seat had even been found although we never did retrieve the rack for the tow bar. We decided not to make a fuss about that. The gas tank had been sucked dry. Somebody had obviously been around with strong lips and a long rubber tube.

More serious, however, was that our sideview mirrors were also missing. We refused to sign the insurance release until they were replaced. After all, who but a crazy person would drive in Guadalajara without mirrors? Ignacio, the very personable manager of the repair shop, phoned our insurance company and got their agreement to pay for the mirrors and Ignacio took us to buy some. That turned out to be an extremely interesting experience. He drove our car and we thought we were going to a Dodge dealer. Instead, we ended up on Calle Los Angeles in Guadalajara, a neighborhood crammed with hundreds of small auto parts shops. In fact, it’s the place where all stolen and used car parts end up.

If one day, you find that someone has removed your headlights and rear lights and antenna and hub caps and anything else detachable, you go and buy them back on Calle Los Angeles. A friend whose Chevy Blazer was very efficiently stripped of everything removable did exactly that. You can buy anything there for a car, including under-the-hood computers.

As a matter of fact, even while you’re there, waiting for service, you can lose parts of your car. While we were waiting we saw the club being lifted from a 1997 Grand Marquis whose owner had driven into a shop to have his stolen headlights replaced.

“What’s the point of taking a club and not having the key?” I asked.

“It’s no big problem,” Ignacio said. “It will just slow him up for a little while, till he makes one.”

On that street, you drive along slowly and there are lots of teenagers who eyeball every car that goes by and see what’s missing from it and then call you over to give you their price for replacing the item. We weren’t there a minute before we had four of these kids running around looking for mirrors for our Dodge Caravan. They could only find one and a deal was struck for 200 pesos, which Ignacio paid. Finding the second mirror took another hour and another 250 pesos. Then we were on our way, with our two “hot” mirrors installed.

So, after 15 long weeks, we have our vehicle back and I guess we’ve learned a thing or two from the whole experience. The most important thing is to keep a sense of perspective about it. It all could have been much, much worse. We were rather impressed with all the people we came in contact with…..the police, the adjustors and other individuals who helped us on the day of the accident. We may fear having an accident – and quite rightly so – but there are professional people out there to help you and the system works.

The insurance worked, too. Everything was paid for and the car was restored to its original condition. According to Ignacio, the total repair cost was around 15,000 pesos. In addition, the deductible was paid, as well as the cost of hauling the car from Guamuchil on a flat bed truck to Guadalajara – a long day’s journey. We were very angry at times with almost everyone we had to deal with because of lack of communication and lack of trust, but in the end we have to admit that our insurance did the right thing. Their decision to take the car away from the repair shop in Guamuchil was correct. The job was probably beyond that shop’s capabilities.

I think, oddly enough, that we’ll both be a little more confident about driving in Mexico in future. It’s as though we faced one of our worst fears and found it isn’t that bad. However, if we set out on a long journey, I believe we might take a look at the list of insurance adjustors in the various towns we expect to pass through each day, just so we can get in touch with them faster. In our panic, we were looking for an adjustor in Culiacán, 110 kilometers away, without realizing there was one in Guamuchil, 12 kilometers away.

Another thing I would advise is to take a few photographs of the exterior and interior of your car, just in case you have to prove someday that it did have this or that feature. We had a lot of worries and concerns about parts that we thought were missing. Some photos could save a lot of argument.

Also, I think we might ask at the various toll booths if there’s insurance on that particular road, although I don’t know what we’ll do if there isn’t.

Apart from that – burn a candle or two and pray that it never happens to you.

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