Thursday, September 24, 2009
Two Perspectives
Last week my friend Steve Lowe, who spends six months here and six months in the States, sent me the following observation:
"I moved to San Miguel because of its beautiful location and its peace-loving people."
Needless to say, we're glad to be here ourselves.
"I am anxious to be home in San Miguel. Our wonderful USA has become far too fast, complicated, broken, adversarial, critical, contentious, racist, controlled, political and dumb."Two days ago, we met a young Mexican waiter who had just moved here from Durango in Northern Mexico, where drug cartels are active. His comment:
"I moved to San Miguel because of its beautiful location and its peace-loving people."
Needless to say, we're glad to be here ourselves.
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
It's Different Down Here: Part 2
Many visitors to San Miguel are surprised when we tell them we have no insurance, aside from catastrophic health insurance. They ask about theft. (We don't own that much stuff.) They ask about fire. (Concrete and brick don't burn very well.) They ask about liability. ("What if someone gets hurt on your property and sues you?" is the way this is often phrased.) We just smile.
Once again, Tony Cohan explains how things work here far better than I ever could:
In Mexico your raptures are your own, not prepackaged or branded. The same when things go badly; you're left to your own devices. Nobody to sue, point the accusing finger at; nobody to hold accountable but yourself. I'm comfortable with that view, with its implication that you are, in the deepest sense, responsible for what befalls you. Besides, to pin blame on human or official malfeasance, for the pothole you just stepped into in a country like Mexico, where civic matters are a morass and justice unreliable, is an empty exercise. It is easier, perhaps richer, to regard events as something larger, more random; to allow that fate, or chance, routinely intervenes in human affairs; and to recognize that they respond only slightly and occasionally to the imposition of our will.
Once again, Tony Cohan explains how things work here far better than I ever could:
In Mexico your raptures are your own, not prepackaged or branded. The same when things go badly; you're left to your own devices. Nobody to sue, point the accusing finger at; nobody to hold accountable but yourself. I'm comfortable with that view, with its implication that you are, in the deepest sense, responsible for what befalls you. Besides, to pin blame on human or official malfeasance, for the pothole you just stepped into in a country like Mexico, where civic matters are a morass and justice unreliable, is an empty exercise. It is easier, perhaps richer, to regard events as something larger, more random; to allow that fate, or chance, routinely intervenes in human affairs; and to recognize that they respond only slightly and occasionally to the imposition of our will.
Ojalá, people say, meaning the same as the Arabic word from which it is derived, Inch'Allah, "God willing."
A Happy Retirement
Yesterday my friend Beto sent me this inspiring e-mail message: As we get older we sometimes begin to doubt our ability to "make a difference" in the world. It is at these times that our hopes are boosted by the remarkable achievements of other "seniors" who have found the courage to take on challenges that would make many of us wither. Harold Sclumberg is such a person.
"I've often been asked, 'What do you older folks do now that you're retired'? Well... I'm fortunate to have a chemical engineering background, and one of the things I enjoy most is turning beer, wine, Scotch, and margaritas into urine.
"And I'm pretty damn good at it, too!!"
