Living in Mexico: A Charming Cultural Difference

One of the most endearing things in Mexican culture that you will never see unless you have a house that sits on the street is how many Mexicans still get your attention when they come to your house. Be it a stranger or someone well known, unless you live in a house in central Mexico with gated walls, tall fences, pit bulls staked in your yard, you will get to experience a traditional way in which Mexicans come calling at your home.

I had recently taken to my "sick-in-the-head" bed (I had taken medication) while the wife was Interneting. According to her, all she saw was a hand appear in our open but heavily curtained window. I was awakened by

"Yeeeeeeeoooooow!"

I popped up saying an entire litany of foul words in a mixture of Spanish (I've learned the Spanish nasty words) and English.

"Que demonio fue eso?"

Translation: "What the hell was that?" I screamed with eyes reminiscent of some creature of the night starring on Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

"Go back to sleep," my wife said calmly, "It was just The Hand."

"The Hand" was pregnant with meaning.

It meant our very loopy, loud, mega-mouthed but immensely enjoyable landlady was here.

Our landlady is a doll. She is our age. Her Ph.D hubby is like Mr. Rodgers in the Neighborhood while she is a combination of Lucy Esmeralda McGillicuddy Ricardo and The Terminator.

She apparently, when learning how to drive, if she did learn how to drive, was never told that cars stopping in front of her when exiting a street or parking lot, stopping at a crosswalk, stopping when cops whistled for the traffic to stop to allow pregnant women and one-legged crippled dwarfs to cross the street were normal parts of driving a four-ton weapon on wheels.

She drives along at "I-will-now-make-you-believe-in-a-Deity" speeds (her driving will turn you instantly into a praying believer) and talking at the speed of light, when suddenly, a car in front of her slows down to make a right-hand turn. This will cause her to lay on the horn, stick her head and torso out the driver's window, and scream something like,

"¡Gordo, te vas a reventar!"

"¡Barrigón!"

"¡Baboso!"

Or, some other equally rude yet comical-sounding Mexican insults. (You should read a list of Mexican profanities-they sound so calm yet are highly descriptive compared to English ones.)

Then after scaring anyone who is living, and then some, within a 100 KM radius, she instantly goes back to her pre-fit conversation.

The woman really does not understand that having to slow down or actually stop is a part of the driving gig!

I think she must think that no one dare stop her forward motion, or slow it, or they will have to deal with the wrath of the La Terminatria (I made up that word since "female terminator" doesn't translate.....).

She came to the house to deliver the phone bill and discuss our lease renewal.

She came to the window, stuck her hand inside-waving-and yelled. This is a custom entrenched in time in this country. I do not think the modern American expat would see this if they did not have a house sitting right on the street. Our house sits in an alley on a dead-end road called a "Privada". You see so many houses today with gated walls surrounding their homes now that I wonder if this custom has all but died out.

This is such a good example of the peculiarities of Mexican culture so many Americans believe they know so well. Texans, especially, think they know Mexicans because they eat tex-mex and occasionally, when the drug lords aren't shooting rocket launchers off at cops on the streets of Nuevo Laredo, come across the border to shop. But, they certainly didn't count on the fact that if your house is on the street and there are no screens on the windows, a Mexican is likely to come to the open window to get your attention rather than knock on your door.

Rather than knock on the front door, the provincial Mexican reasons, and cause you to walk through the house to answer it, rather than disturb you, they just might walk around the house and have little look in the windows. If they can see you, and can see you aren't busy doing something else, they might call to you through the window, come to the back door, or, as in the case of my landlady, stick her hand in the window to wave at you while screaming like a banshee.

Can you just see what would happen if someone didn't warn a provincial Mexican coming to the States about this practice? I mean, if they could find a house with open, unscreened windows, a house without a fenced-in yard, with no dogs that would gladly relieve you of your earthly existence, then they would try this look-in-the-window routine and most likely get their heads blown off.

We've had passersby ask for a piece of the chicken we were eating in the dining room. They even specified a "chicken leg" as being their piece of choice. A pair of young men came to the window and asked to use our toilet and even, in an attempt to be reassuring in letting two thug-sized strange men in our house, told us they promised not to look at all our belongings.

And yet, in Mexico, provincial Mexico, this is perfectly acceptable behavior. The cultural reasoning would be if they could have a look in your window to see you are not too busy, then, they think, it would be ok to bother you by knocking on the door or screeching in your window to get your attention-which you would gladly give them after you get over the fright-induced heart attack.

To the provincial Mexican, his or her actions would have been the better part of courtesy.

Running to the window and yelling in anger like the stereotypical American won't compute in the provincial Mexican's mind.

Besides, I think it is a rather charming custom.