Essence of Mexico

My first steps into a foreign country were met with a stifling deluge of heat and smell that, to this day, I associate with Mexico. Our plane rolled to a halt and lowered the stairs onto the middle of the tarmac. There was no jet bridge, no commuters hustling to or from anywhere. It was hot, and calm, and quiet. While my American co-travelers scurried to begin their vacations, the slow, focused pace of Puerto Vallarta touched me instantly. Time carried weight. In truth, it didn’t matter at all. Without realizing it, I had already captured the essence of Mexico in the simplicity of departing the plane.

As we bumped along the cobblestone streets, my senses consumed the inputs of workers, families, and industry. A school with the windows busted out. Oblivious to the destruction, children kicked a ball around the dirt school yard. The ongoing, laborious state of construction marked every corner. Half-built stucco walls and rebar protruding into the sky measured the amount of work left to do.

Many people lacked shoes. Some lived on the beach. Others worked long hours in the alley turning tortillas or hauling carts of goods up and down the streets. Children sold roses or Chiclets to earn a few pesos from tourists. It could have fallen into a stereotype of hard, third-world living. Yet, it wasn’t. The perspective of the people was too powerful for that.

This was not a society rushing into the future. Rather than seeking pleasure from the accumulation of things, they chose to live in simpatico with extended family, chickens, horses, dogs, and the land. Their deeply-sunned faces were caricatures of art in living form, with stories to tell in every laugh line. Their hands sent a message of hard work and a love of the land and country. The commitment to family was evident in the ever-presence of the children.

For most Americans, thoughts of Mexico conjure up images of beaches and palm trees. I took something different home with me. I was 18 years old when I learned what many Americans still have not. Life is about family. Love can be given freely. Pride is earned through hard work. Contentment is the reward for being grateful for what you already have. Now well into my 42nd year, I often smile with the memory of those people. On a really great day, I find myself unexpectedly transported thousands of miles through the mingled scents of dust, earth, clay, and something unidentifiable that is uniquely Mexico.