Some are Mexican, bought from a local street vendor or in Tlalpujahua, a Pueblo Mágico in Michoacán famous for its artisanal Christmas ornament industry. Others are faded and worn, dating back to my childhood. My final stage of tree-trimming is adding the tinsel that I use year after year. I love its look, even if it gets everywhere and I’m still finding it months after we take down the tree.

Christmas in Guanajuato

In Guanajuato, the Christmas season gets off to a rollicking start on Dec. 12, the feast day celebrating Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint. At the Santuario de Guadalupe, the day is filled with prayer, music, food vendors and riotous celebration. We go early, before the crowds, to watch the faithful carrying offerings of food and flowers . Some arrive on their knees, crawling across the tiled floor of the church. While I’m not a believer, I am deeply moved by their expression of faith.

Throughout the month of December, Christmas-themed concerts and choirs are held at Guanajuato’s iconic Teatro Juárez and local churches. Many people host private parties, far more than my husband Barry and I ever went to when we spent Christmas in California. The foreign community seems to get caught up in the sense of festivity that accompanies the season here.

Celebrating when you’re not Mexican

Many resident foreigners celebrate Christmas with their adopted Mexican family. Barry and I used to do that, but we are early risers and can’t stay up til 3 a.m., for the post-mass feast. Somehow, over the years we’re learned to sleep through the fireworks that Mexicans light off during holidays — and many other days — and which produce ear-shattering bangs.

On Christmas morning, we always lead a gentle hike for anyone interested, and at least 10 to 12 grateful people show up, happy to have a chance to be active. Some folks turn into future friends and others are simply passing through, but everyone seems to appreciate a group hike. In the afternoon, we stroll around and people-watch. 

In honor of Barry’s British roots, we celebrate Boxing Day on Dec. 26 by hosting a gathering at our home. Our guests always want to know what Boxing Day is, of course. The origins are still debated, but most people agree that it was the day in Britain when servants would collect their yearly bonuses, gifts and leftover foods delivered in boxes.

In my crockpot I prepare homemade wassail, which tastes similar to Mexican ponche.  But the treat that disappears the fastest is my sherry trifle, a recipe I inherited from my Welsh mother-in-law. Neither foreigners nor Mexicans have a clue what a treat they’re in for. I admit yellow cake mix and packaged custard doesn’t sound especially inspiring, but everyone loves it. Trifle is one of those treats that are supposed to taste better the longer they sit around, but mine has never lasted long enough to know.

The right way to do Christmas

After many years of spending the Christmas season in Mexico, I can see my own culture more clearly, and I pick and choose which parts of it I want to include. To a U.S. American, it’s a relief that the heavy lifting of Christmas is over before it even starts in the United States. In fact, Christmas in Mexico has an uncynical innocence that reminds me of my childhood.

Spending Christmas in a culture that is not our own helps Barry and I let go of any latent Christmas scripts still hanging around. We can’t do Christmas ‘right’ in Mexico because the script doesn’t work here. We decorate our tree, walk in the hills, and sing “Oh Little Town in Bethlehem” in Spanish. While we will never be Mexican, we are accepted and welcomed here, and so is our Christmas.

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles can be found on her website, authory.com/LouisaRogers.

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I thought of this recently when two Mexico News Daily readers commented that my use of the word ‘expat’ in an article I wrote was offensive and elitist. I pointed out, defensively, that the Oxford Dictionary’s definition of expat is pretty innocuous: “a person who lives outside their native country.” 

What’s not to like? But while the word ‘expat’ may seem neutral at first, its implications are not. As you probably remember from high school English class, there’s denotation, the literal, textbook meaning of a word, as opposed to connotation, the subjective idea or sense — positive or negative, but rarely neutral — associated with that word. And it turns out, the connotation of the word “expat” is very charged. 

Unpacking the terms expat, immigrant, and migrant

What makes one person an expat and another an immigrant? I doubt most foreigners who move to Mexico think of themselves as ‘immigrants’. Moving here, for most of us, is a lifestyle choice and not the result of economic deprivation or dire circumstances in our home country, such as oppression or persecution. Even those foreigners who move to Mexico because they can’t afford to buy a home in the U.S. are still privileged economically, compared to most Mexicans.

The truth is, the word expat carries assumptions about class, race, education, affluence, and privilege, and usually refers to Western white people working or retiring abroad.

There are a few exceptions. For example, I’ve met professionals from India who work in the US high-tech sector. Although they’re not White, the kind of work they do gives them expat status (although they may be perceived as immigrants because they’re dark-skinned, just as affluent African Americans are sometimes stereotyped as people on welfare). 

“Migrants” are people searching for higher pay and better living conditions, who move back and forth across a border to find work, like seasonal crop harvesting or construction. I’ve never met a foreign resident in Mexico who picks avocados and sends money back to their family in the U.S., the way Latino migrants in California pick strawberries and send money back to Mexico. 

Then there are the foreigners who work within the Mexican economy, who don’t fit into any of these categories. In Guanajuato, for example, where my husband and I live, we know foreign residents who teach English at the University of Guanajuato or perform as musicians in the university symphony. Their salary is decent only by Mexican standards, and their pensions are small. These foreigners have the privilege that comes with skin color, without the usual economic advantages.

To me, the word “immigrant” sounds less affluent, more like a person searching for better economic opportunities, than the word expat, which sounds classy and hip. No wonder I liked the sound of it.

Changing the words we use will not, by itself, change the inequities that privilege brings, but it’s a start. How we refer to ourselves and others carries weight. I, for one, have decided not to use the term ‘expat’ anymore. I’m an extranjera, a foreign resident of Mexico.

How do you feel about the word expat being offensive in nature? Does it describe us best, or is there another word you would use when describing yourself?

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers.

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Or can you? After we move abroad, many of us change much more than our addresses and zip codes. Often we change our habits, routines, friends, priorities, values and even our sense of self. After living part-time in Mexico for 20 years, I’ve been struck by how much lighter I am, both physically and psychologically. Some of that may be due to aging and no longer having to earn a living, but I know in my heart that some of it is Mexico itself.

And I’m not alone. I asked a number of foreigners, mostly residents of Guanajuato, where my husband and I own a home, to share their thoughts. It turns out that moving to Mexico brought about positive changes in their lives that they had never been able to achieve before. 

Many were ready for a major reset and ripe for change. In my husband’s and my case, we had wanted an international base for years. Others were at a transition point: a divorce, the end of a career, children grown, even the death of the family dog. And some were exhausted by U.S. partisan politics.

Social life

One of the main areas people described was friendships and social life. Martine, a Quebecker who moved to Vancouver when she was 20, told me that she had  “made more friends in Mexico in the last 12 years — mostly in the first couple of years — than I have all my life in Canada.” 

Deb, an Oregonian, agrees. ”I’m much more social than I was in Portland,” she says. “And with that has come a sense of warmth towards people — even those I pass on the street! In Mexico, people are outside in public spaces so much of the time.”

Exercise, eating change and weight loss

Many people reported becoming healthier since moving to Mexico. “Guanajuato comes with a free gym membership,” says Tom, a Texan who’s lived in the city for 24 years. “It’s easier to get to most places walking, so it isn’t discipline or exercise, it’s just more efficient.” 

Others have lost weight. “Because we can’t hop in our car and drive to Popeye’s chicken,” says Billy, who used to live in Oakland, “my eating habits are much healthier. Combined with all the walking and stairs, he has lost 23 pounds since moving to Mexico 9 months ago. “And I still enjoy the same number of margaritas!” he adds.

A few adapted their eating rhythms. Cathy, from Colorado, now eats on a Mexican schedule: late breakfast and a mid-afternoon lunch. She also eats more fresh fruits and vegetables.

Others got rid of their cars, and don’t miss the cost of insurance, gas and maintenance.

Adapting to a different, more relaxed culture

“Life here reminds us of our childhoods, with friendly neighborhoods, local stores, strong community and family values,” say Kevin and Jan, a Denver couple who both grew up in Westchester County, New York. “It’s comforting to feel a part of things in our ‘hood.” They chose their neighborhood to immerse themselves in local culture and avoid the expat bubble trap. “The vibrant colors and sounds, the abuelas and kids in our neighborhood, cheer us up with their stories and laughter. It’s a society that is more grounded in gritty reality — combined with lots of personal affection.”

Cathy appreciates the less complicated lifestyle. “I rent, I don’t have a car and my needs are minimal. I no longer want more stuff, and it’s been easy to make new friends,” she says.

Evelin and Doug, a couple who moved from Pasadena, love the different values found in Mexico. “Mexicans focus more on living a happy life than financial gain,” says Evelin. “This is so refreshing, and it’s why we chose to live here.”

Jack, who with his wife Jacquie, divides his life between Guanajuato and Bend, Oregon, believes that getting angry when things don’t go his way doesn’t work. “I just go with the flow, be patient and polite. It will all work out.” 

Cathy agrees. “I love living in this culture. I find Mexican people friendly, helpful and they don’t seem to take themselves too seriously. It’s nice to be able to strike up conversations with people sitting on a park bench.” 

Learning Spanish

Liz, a woman from Austin, Texas, who lives in San Miguel, is comfortable speaking Spanish after taking a six-month, four-hour-a-day immersion course. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,” she says. “But I feel it’s really helping my brain, and hopefully keeping Alzheimer’s at bay.”

“When we lived in the Bay Area,” says Billy “many people spoke Spanish, but I didn’t. Just lazy, I guess. But here, speaking Spanish is a must, and I am learning more each day.”

Deep changes

The most profound transformations have happened to people who truly immerse themselves in the culture. Tom married a Mexican woman and became part of her family. “Changing cultures involved giving up some of my desire to be recognized for personal accomplishments,” he says. “My sense of who I am is more malleable than I used to believe. Everything is more interesting not knowing things for sure, including who I am. Life is more mysterious and exciting.”

Mexico seems to change a person. We speak a different language, eat differently, move differently, even dream differently. Surrounded by new colors, textures, rhythms and sounds, many of us outgrow our old selves. Whatever once defined us shifts, our boundaries soften, and, like other species, we shed our skins. 

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers.

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She is not alone, of course — we all violate cultural etiquette at times. We may even be wired to assume our own culture is better than others: evolutionary psychologists suggest that since our ancestral roots are tribal, our actions reflect a powerful loyalty to our tribe or social group. 

This, however, doesn’t excuse us from committing repeated cultural offenses. To avoid inappropriate behavior, practice what cross-cultural experts call “cultural competence”: the ability to interact respectfully and sensitively with people of different cultures. Here are eight ways to do that in Mexico.

Study your own culture

This is often easier said than done There’s a famous line attributed to the 1920s American anthropologist Ruth Benedict: “The fish are the last to see the water.” In other words, our own culture can often be invisible to us. U.S. culture, for example, has a fairly direct communication style, which I only figured out after marrying Barry, a Brit, and discovering that my in-laws sometimes interpreted my direct style as rude. 

I, meanwhile, thought they were evasive and even occasionally dishonest. Fortunately, I not only grew to love and understand his family but learned about different communication styles. That came in handy for living in Mexico, another culture that values indirect communication.

Observe the locals 

Study their interactions with each other, their dress, eating styles and table manners, how they greet and say goodbye to each other, their formalities and so on. When Barry and I were remodeling our Mexican house, for example, we noticed the importance of hierarchy and titles when our contractor would address the architect not by his first name, but as “Arquitecto.”

Find a trusted guide who can answer your questions 

Spanish teachers can serve as cultural interpreters, as can people with dual Mexican and U.S. citizenship. My first Spanish teacher, for example, explained to me that Mexicans like to tease each other, give friends cheesy nicknames and make jokes about things that in the U.S. would be considered inappropriate, like the time at a concert when one of the musicians referred to another as “gordito” — plump. It’s hard for me to picture an American performer referring to their fellow musician as “Fatty.”

Adopt a curious, listening mindset

My model is the late Fran Peavey, an American political activist and author of the book “Heart Politics.” During the 1980s, she traveled to different cities around the world, sitting in public squares with a placard reading  “American willing to listen.” Scores of people would stand in line for hours waiting to talk to her. 

Weigh carefully whether to raise sensitive subjects with people you don’t know well

In the 1990s, Barry and I spent three weeks in Oaxaca studying Spanish and staying with a host family who had two adult children in their twenties. One of the other Spanish students staying at the house had told me that the 22-year-old son had fathered a child who didn’t live with him and that this was not unusual in Mexico.

On the last evening, we took our hosts out to a restaurant. During dinner, I blithely asked to the mother  “You have a grandchild, don’t you?” No, she said, icily, frowning. “I don’t have any grandchildren.” I realized with a pang that I had crossed a cultural line. 

Avoid stereotypes, which are usually negative 

Americans are loud, Mexicans are lazy, Brits are reserved, Japanese are timid and so on. 

I still cringe remembering a stereotype I repeated the first year I lived in Guanajuato. “Mexicans love to gossip,” I announced at a small gathering, as though I were a modern-day Margaret Mead who had done anthropological research on the culture for decades. Fortunately, a Mexican-American friend took me aside and tactfully suggested I refrain from such comments again.

Afterwards, deciding I should educate myself about gossip, I looked it up and discovered it’s a universal aspect of all cultural groups. No one has a monopoly on it.

Use self-effacing humor

When Mexicans ask me where I’m from, I say, “Soy estadounidense,” and then often add, “No es mi culpa” — “It’s not my fault.” I don’t feel I’m to blame for being American, and I’m not ashamed of my nationality. But given Mexico’s ambivalent relationship with the U.S., this immediately lightens any possible tension. The person I’m chatting with almost always cracks up, and it breaks the ice.

Expats are not experts! 

Even if I’ve lived in Mexico for many years, I keep reminding myself I’m not an authority on the culture. It’s easy to assume I know more than I do. 

Wherever we’re from, we tend to think our birth culture’s practices and customs are the norm, and to react with surprise — and even occasional anger — when other cultures don’t follow our lead. None of us is immune from making cultural gaffes. The trick is to notice, acknowledge the error, apologize and start over.

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

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There’s nothing wrong with helping, of course. In fact, I think it’s important wherever we are to contribute to the society where we live. Many expats I know, not only in Guanajuato where we live, but all over Mexico, volunteer their time, energy, and money to support their local communities — and that’s a good thing.

But the attitude that Mexicans need our help and that we are in a superior position to offer it is condescending and disrespectful. Besides, I could use some help myself. In Mexico, I notice how impatient and intolerant I can be. Nothing like living in another culture to wake you up!

I thought about this again when I offered to give a series of presentations on personal health to working-class moms through DIF, the Mexican federal government department whose mission is to strengthen the welfare of families. I’d led similar workshops in the United States, so the content of my talks in Guanajuato was not new. But giving them in Spanish was something else! 

I prepared for a couple of weeks, working with my Spanish tutor to review my grammar and vocabulary. Then, she and I spent another session discussing the dynamics. How could I engage the audience members and get them involved? What could I expect from the participants? Would they respond to questions or sit there passively? Would they interact when I offered an exercise?

During this period, a new Mexican-American acquaintance with whom I was discussing these presentations unexpectedly challenged me. She said that she thought what I was doing was insulting and that it was inappropriate for me, as an outsider, to offer my expertise. 

I was so blindsided by her criticism that I didn’t dig in and try to find out why. Later I talked it over with my tutor — the last thing I wanted to do was insult people! She disagreed with my friend, pointing out that I wasn’t taking a job away from anyone but  simply offering information as a volunteer. Since the director of the agency had welcomed my ideas, it seemed unlikely that I was being offensive. 

Painful though my friend’s comments had felt, her feedback did ultimately help me, though I never felt comfortable with her again. I realized I didn’t want to come across as an expert with answers, telling people what they “should” do; rather, I wanted to be a peer, another woman trying to figure out how to take care of her mind and body in a complicated world. And I also wanted to honor the wisdom and intelligence of the women I was addressing. Particularly in a male-dominated, classist-based culture like Mexico, I sense that women often feel inferior, inadequate and “wrong.” If these women did indeed feel that way, would it be possible to help them feel stronger? 

With that in mind, I went through the content again and shifted the emphasis so that it was more about reinforcing the healthy habits Mexican moms already had, and less about improvements they could make. For example, in my talk on walking, I started by asking the women how they had arrived at the center where I gave the presentation. All but two had walked. Congratulating them, I said, “I imagine owning a car sounds good, but you’re actually far fitter because you walk every day, rather than many of my compatriots who drive.” And it’s true; in Guanajuato, most residents conduct their lives on foot and by bus.

In my talk on healthy eating, I pointed out that while it’s true junk food has become unfortunately common in Mexico — as everywhere — there’s nothing better than the traditional Mexican diet, rich in beans, fruits and vegetables.

Meanwhile, there were several surprises in store for me. After my presentation on mindful eating, one participant approached me, asking if I could offer a workshop on overcoming emotional eating. A woman after my own heart! And in the session on stress, two house cleaners said that their favorite time of the day was being alone in their client’s home, so they could finally enjoy solitude. And I thought Mexicans always preferred to be surrounded by family!

At the end of the series, I was deeply touched when the coordinator of the program honored me with a certificate and the gift of a red shawl.

Of course, I hope the women in my audience came away feeling empowered by the themes we discussed. But the talks also benefited me. As we discussed areas that mattered deeply to all of us, these women, through their honesty and sharing, helped me gain insights into their lives and into Mexican culture. Thanks to them, I’m learning, and what could be more exciting than continual learning in my adopted home?

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles can be found on her website.

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The manager wanted to empower his staff to make decisions without always consulting him. That’s a tall order in Mexico, where employees are typically expected to show respect for authority and defer decisions to the manager. He was also concerned that the staff didn’t always understand what international guests expected, leading to frustration for guests and employees alike. 

What was more, he told me, they sometimes came across as overly formal, responding to questions with just a brief yes or no without any explanation. I had experienced this myself in different settings and knew that it wasn’t a helpful response to the mostly international hotel guests, visiting from the United States, Canada, Japan and Germany. 

I prepared for weeks, customizing my English-language customer service training material for a Mexican group and going over the resources and exercises I planned with my Spanish tutor. At the seminar, I began the first session by introducing myself and then telling the participants that I believed focusing on customer service would help them gain success. 

The universal elevator speech

We started with self-introductions, which are an important part of any business interaction. One by one, each person stood up and told us their name and role. They were nervous at first, but gradually warmed up. I usually asked them to do it again, suggesting that they slow down, pause frequently and speak up. 

For foreigners, Mexican names can be a mouthful, consisting of a first name (or two), the father’s last name, followed by the mother’s. These sometimes sound like a blur and are hard to remember for those with little exposure to Mexico. By the end of the circuit, everyone seemed more comfortable with their self-introduction. 

Responding to complaints

Then we made a list of the main complaints they heard from guests:

“The air conditioning doesn’t work.”

“There’s no hot water.”

“This meal wasn’t what I expected.”

“It’s nighttime. I have this problem, and the maintenance crew isn’t around.”

We role-played how to respond. I was delighted when a participant pointed out that just answering with one word wasn’t helpful; what was important, he said, was to offer a solution.

Everyone cracked up when one of the cleaners shared that a customer complained when a wheeled bed kept escaping from its usual spot and rolled all the way to the door.

Changing old habits isn’t easy

During the role-playing exercise, the staff told me that workers in Mexican hotels and restaurants are trained to keep their hands behind their backs as a sign of deference, a style that wouldn’t work well with most North American or European guests. 

I brought this up later with the manager, who suggested I encourage them to use more visible body language, but also that I ask them how they felt trying a different nonverbal style, as it’s not easy to change deeply ingrained habits. I was impressed with his level of understanding and respect for his staff.

Alternatives to common responses

Later in the session, we discussed different options to statements often used in Mexico:

Instead of “no hay” — “There isn’t any” — try “We don’t have that currently, but would you like…?”

Instead of “no es posible,” offer something that is possible.

Instead of “no puedo” — “I can’t” — say something positive: “What I can do is…”

Instead of “se acabó” — “We’re out of it” — try “We don’t have that currently. Would you like this instead?”

Body language

As participants practised alternative responses, we also discussed the fact that nonverbal communication is very cultural, and what’s appropriate in one culture may not be in another. As the manager suggested, I encouraged them to experiment with keeping their hands visible and looking directly at the guest, even though it was different from their normal style, and to notice whatever feelings came up.

For homework between sessions, I gave the participants a list of questions about the hotel to increase their knowledge, so that they could better answer a question, even if it was outside their area of expertise, such as “List a couple of the services offered in the Day Spa” and “What the are the three types of suites called?”

Following up on guests’ concerns

In the second session, we discussed how to let a client know they would get back to them with an answer. Guests from goal-oriented cultures like the United States and Germany are reassured by a precise time frame, not the “ahorita” — fairly soon — or “un ratito” — “a little while” — so commonly used in Mexico.

Making action statements

In the final exercise, the participants created action statements such as “I’ll promise only what I can deliver,” “I’ll offer solutions, not excuses,” “I will give specific, concrete responses to guests,” “I’ll focus on the guest instead of chatting with my coworker” and “I won’t look at my phone when guests are around.”

I also created action statements myself: “I’ll institute the ground rule I always use in the U.S. but forgot here: No side conversations!” There wasn’t a lot of chatter, but it doesn’t take much to be distracting. And “I’ll make it clear that no one has to ask my permission to go to the restroom!”

What we all learned

Based on their evaluations, the hotel staff learned why it was helpful to come across less passive and deferential, as well as the importance of cross-departmental knowledge.

And I learned that despite a highly egalitarian manager, they still found it difficult to let go of their hierarchical cultural training. I was also struck by the fact that, among themselves, they ignored differences in status and pay, had fun, teased each other and made jokes.

I was pleasantly surprised when they said Americans and Canadians were pretty forgiving when their expectations weren’t met.  In their experience, it was Mexicans and Italians who were more likely to get irritated. 

On further reflection, my only regret is that I didn’t schedule a follow up session a couple of months later to find out how well they were internalizing the insights they’d gained. Still, they were so positive at the end that I’m hopeful the training helped increase their success in their work lives. 

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

The post What I learned leading a customer service seminar at an elite Mexican hotel appeared first on Mexico News Daily

During Covid, the group, like everything else, stopped, and it never really picked up again. Instead, every afternoon, Barry and I would sit in one of the five or six churches in Guanajuato that were open during the day – a practice we’ve continued ever since. This change turned out to be a blessing, because I began to experience a gentle, intimate kind of spirituality throughout Mexico that was different than anything I had ever known.

If you’re at all like us, you may yearn to practice some kind of spirituality, no matter how vague. The challenge is that the options you might be accustomed to are much fewer in Mexico.

They do exist, though, and here are five to consider:

1. Attend services at English-language houses of worship. Many English-language Protestant denominations and Jewish groups in Mexico hold services in English. For example, in cities like San Miguel, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico City, and Lake Chapala, you can find Baha’i, Baptist, Unitarian, Episcopal, Charismatic, Christian Science, Mormon, Quaker, Jewish, Catholic, Sufi groups, and more.

Even cities with fewer expats have English-language services. Oaxaca, for example, has an Episcopal Church, and we sat with a Zen meditation group in Xalapa.

2. Visit Mexican churches outside of services. I love to sit among the statues and icons, soaking up the atmosphere and scribbling in my journal, while I watch the elderly women tirelessly sweeping the tile floors or changing the flowers. In the Guanajuato Basilica, a narrow internal balcony runs along the walls near the ceiling. Sometimes I look up and trace the line of the balcony to its end, imagining myself a little girl lying up there, unseen, peeking down through the fluted columns at the worshippers below.

If you decide to go to Mass even without understanding everything the sacerdote says, you can still absorb the “smells and bells.” And if you’re like me, not following the sermon can be an advantage, because otherwise I’d start going down cognitive paths and arguing in my mind. At times, the less I know, the better.

3. Be resourceful and create your own ceremonies. Jewish expats in Guanajuato, for example, have a monthly Shabbat gathering held at rotating homes. One year, Barry and I went to a New Year’s service hosted by an expat and officiated by a visiting retired Episcopal minister.
4. Adapt Mexican rituals. Mexico is a culture so rich in ceremony and ritual that many expats adapt some of them, such as people who build altars in their homes during Día de Los Muertos. 

Curanderos are traditional healers who use herbal remedies, spiritual cleansing, and prayer to treat physical, emotional, and spiritual wounds. 

Many Mexicans who aren’t curanderos also employ rituals. When we were remodeling our home, for example, each morning at the start of the work day our albañiles would light a candle to excise evil spirits. You too can do this whenever you want to remodel, paint, or cleanse a room. It’s the Mexican version of the feng shui ritual of walking through a room you want to cleanse, burning sage. Whether you intellectually believe a ritual helps is beside the point because rituals have power, regardless of your belief system.

Of course, as foreigners, we need to be careful not to practice cultural appropriation. Different people draw the line differently, but in my opinion, as long as we conduct a ritual in the privacy of our own home, it’s not disrespectful.

5. Find spirituality in ruins. I used to have no interest in ruins, but after years of living in Mexico, I’ve gradually become seduced. Mexico’s ancient sites offer a unique kind of enchantment, because they harmonize so beautifully with the surrounding landscape. Ruins feel as natural to me as trees and flowers.

One late afternoon, Barry and I were sitting on the grass behind Becán, a ruin in the Yucatán Peninsula. We were resting after clambering up and down the many steep steps like a pair of eight-year-olds. As I gazed at the enormous, multi-layered rock structure, backlit by the late afternoon sun, I wondered what stories lay embedded between those stones. I felt a sense of place greater than the sum of its crumbling, rocky parts. A dreamlike sense of timelessness came over me as I soaked in their beauty.

Ruins are for me what the Celts call a “thin place,” where the boundaries between worlds disappear and the gap between the spiritual and secular narrows. Especially today, in our hard, clashing era, they bring me a sense of comfort and hope. Despite the violent histories contained within them, Mexican ruins have endured for centuries — so maybe we will, too.

Mexican spirituality isn’t confined to churches. It infuses altars and bells, church balconies and alcoves, cemeteries and ruins — in other words, everywhere. And this immersive quality helps me feel my own fuzzy, undefined spirituality more deeply than ever before.  

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

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So how did an outlier like myself fall in love with Mexico?

A few months ago, I had an experience that answered my question. I was on my way to a friend’s home in Guanajuato, the UNESCO World Heritage site in central Mexico where my husband Barry and I live part of the year. Strolling along one of the city’s maze-like callejones (alleys), I passed several kids kicking a ball. It hit a corner next to me, and to my amazement, I kicked it back. They shrieked; I grinned. They weren’t expecting a woman the age of their abuelitas to play ball, a gringa no less. The ball bounced near me again. I kicked it hard, and we all raced after it, laughing. “Fun!” I thought. Divertido. Still laughing, I waved goodbye and headed on my way.

I don’t often find myself kicking balls around with kids like a goofy eight-year-old. That evening when I told my husband about it, Barry said, “You laugh more in Mexico. You’re lighter and friendlier.” After living in Guanajuato part-time for twenty years, I wonder if I’m, well, a nicer person. I’m certainly less argumentative and defensive. More playful. 

Is it being around Mexicans, or is it Spanish? Studies suggest that speaking in another language brings out different qualities in a person. Novelist Isabel Allende thinks so: “I live in California — in English — but I can only write in Spanish. In fact, all the fundamental things in my life happen in Spanish, like scolding my grandchildren, cooking, and making love.”

I never thought learning a language would bring out dormant parts of me, but with Spanish, I get to be someone else for a change, instead of my same old English-language brand, the one I’ve been living with for so many years. Photos of myself as a kid show me laughing and being silly, but that gradually lessened as an adult. I enjoyed my work as a training consultant, but owning a business in Silicon Valley was highly competitive, and in order to succeed even moderately, I had to be focused and serious. I constantly worried about my persona and how I came across. While leading the seminars themselves was great fun, marketing my business was very stressful.

When I began learning Spanish in Mexico, something about the vocabulary and the sounds lightened my spirit. Spanish has certain words I love to use that I simply can’t express in English. Rincón literally means a corner, but it could be a nook, a niche, or a feature — like the altars of Guadalupe, Guanajuato’s patron saint, which turn up every so often on callejones. Or ojalá, a word of Arabic origin, meaning “if it be God’s will,” and more commonly, “hopefully.” I can’t imagine saying “if it be God’s will” in English.

As for the subjunctive, the Spanish learner’s curse, I now enjoy it so much that I seek opportunities to use it. The subjunctive expresses uncertainty, doubt, and the unknown. In English, I diligently trained myself to be the complete opposite: assertive, direct, and “certain-sure,” as we used to say as kids. Don’t mess with me; I am woman, hear me roar! But in Spanish, it’s a different story, a place where I willingly surrender to unpredictability and mystery.

I once asked a Spanish teacher if the subjunctive was used more by women than men. He was surprised by the question, but after considering it, said yes. I wasn’t surprised. Traditionally, women are conditioned to speak in a placating way, using an upward inclination at the end of a sentence and asking questions like “Could you…” “Would you mind if…” and “If it’s not too much trouble…” While my English-language self would run like hell from the uncertain subjunctive, my Spanish self courts it.

Meanwhile, the rhythm and sounds of Spanish are sheer music. When I hear Spanish vowels spilling out of me like a cascade, I feel lyrical, mellifluous. Other times I sound like a rolling train whose wheels clackety-clack on the tracks of Spanish consonants.

I’ll always be loyal to English. I love its richness, its Euclidean bluntness, its fusion of Germanic and Latin. English is the language of my birth, my family, my roots. But I have space in my heart for more than one language, and Mexican Spanish is the gift that transports me not just to new worlds, but to a new self.

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

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“Don’t you worry about the violence in Mexico?” she asked me. 

“No, I don’t,” I said. “I mean, I’m careful, of course, to avoid getting robbed. But otherwise no.”

I kept going. “Of course there’s violence in Mexico, but it’s very different than in the States. The chance that I’d be randomly killed in a mass shooting in a Mexican church, school or a Walmart is next to zero.” (To be fair, the chances in the U.S., though higher, are not very high — but the awareness and anxiety among the public as a whole is dramatically more). I went on to explain that narcotraficos mostly target other cartels, rarely tourists. 

Frequent concerns about living in Mexico

She nodded, seemingly satisfied by my explanation. I didn’t keep going, because who wants to put up with a lecture on an airline flight? But in case you need data the next time you’re talking to a Mexico skeptic, there’s more: The violence in Mexico is partly caused by U.S. drug policy and ever-growing consumption of illegal narcotics and the half million traced weapons (between 70% and 90%) smuggled into Mexico every year from the U.S. 

Mexico has highly restrictive laws regarding gun possession, and it also takes months of paperwork to purchase a gun legally. To my amazement, there are only two gun stores in the entire country, one near Mexico City and one in the northern state of Nuevo León. 

Violence in Mexico is by no means the only issue people raise. Some ask questions that sound a bit negative; others appear concerned for me.  Here’s how I respond to the most common questions:

What about personal crime?

Mexicans are very security conscious, so people lock their doors and are careful with their valuables, wallets, and credit cards. On our street in Guanajuato we have a Whatsapp group that alerts fellow neighbors if someone looks suspicious.

But there’s a lot of machismo, right?

Yes, unfortunately, and the statistics around violence against women are truly awful. Three percent of Mexican murder victims are classified as femicide, one of the highest rates in the world. 

However, the country is unrivaled in its commitment to gender inclusion and equality. In 2019, Mexico passed a constitutional amendment setting a goal of gender parity in elected and appointed senior positions in the judicial and executive branches of government. The chief justice of the Supreme Court, the leaders of both houses of Congress, and the director of Mexico’s Central Bank are all women. There is no other country that has this kind of requirement — and certainly not the United States.

In addition, Mexico just elected its first female (and Jewish) President, Claudia Sheinbaum, who holds a PhD in energy engineering. If Mexico can elect a female president, you’d think the U.S. could.

Are there a lot of homeless people?

There are some homeless people, naturally, but nowhere I’ve visited are they visible. While in the U.S., and especially on the West Coast, homelessness has become the norm, I have never seen a homeless encampment anywhere in Mexico. The reason is that for the most part, Mexico’s poor live in slums, which can indeed be squalid — but some, surprisingly, have electricity. Even a flimsy structure provides a roof, and a slum is more permanent, with a potentially higher quality of life, than a homeless encampment.

Is it crazy hot?

Rarely, but more than in the past. Certain areas can get very hot and humid. Oddly, April and May have higher temperatures than July and August, because summer is the rainy season when, in theory, afternoon thunderstorms cool things off. However, as with everywhere else in the world, the climate crisis has brought extreme heat and drought to cities that are usually just moderately warm. Since houses are rarely air-conditioned, many expats leave in April and May to avoid the heat.

Is the health care affordable?

Absolutely! Long before the Affordable Care Act, Mexico offered several tiers of subsidized health care. All Mexicans have access to universal health coverage, but reliable health care is limited in remote, rural areas. Even when you pay, though, your bill is dramatically less than in the US, not to mention the fact that you don’t have to contend with the Byzantine system of figuring out what you’re paying for and what the esoteric coding means.

Can you get by without Spanish?

Depends on where. In highly touristic areas, yes, but even there, I wouldn’t advise it.  Even a few basic phrases go a long way in earning appreciation and respect from Mexicans.

Do you have decent internet?

It’s much better than in Eureka! Our fiber optic in Guanajuato is super-fast, whereas in remote Eureka (five hours north of San Francisco), it’s slower.

Do tourists get sick from street food? 

Not if you do what full-time foreign residents do: follow the locals, who not only know which are the tastiest food puestos (stalls), but also the healthiest.

People who don’t know Mexico, or know it only superficially, often ask insightful questions, and can be very interested in an in-depth conversation. Unfortunately, strangers who don’t know me can assume negative things about the country, making me want to sigh inwardly. But since my goal is to help them come away with a better understanding of Mexico, I do my best to answer respectfully. It can be a challenge, but as we say in Spanish, así es.

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

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Since then, we have bought a house in the city, where we now live part of the year, and we contribute to local bicultural nonprofits such as Amigos de los Animales, which spays dogs and cats and promotes the humane treatment of animals. Partly thanks to the dogged persistence of this volunteer organization, we have observed a huge paradigm shift in the local treatment of animals. Not only are dogs on rooftops much less common, but many more Mexicans now have a personal relationship with their pets rather than using them only for security purposes. We often see people walking their dogs.

This transformation is just one of many changes we’ve observed in Guanajuato and elsewhere in Mexico. Here are six others:

Romantic relationships

Whereas when we first came to Guanajuato, all our teachers were either married or wanted to be, now only two of our former teachers are married (significantly, they’re both men). Our first teacher, a law professor in her 40s who lives in Mexico City, shows no interest in marrying or having kids. Another is divorced and lives with her high school novio in Querétaro; her adult sons live in Guadalajara, near her ex. A third teacher is in her mid-thirties and single. Another has had an abortion (which, with its decriminalization in 2023, is a foundational change, making it dramatically easier to terminate a pregnancy in Mexico than in many U.S. states).

We also see same-sex couples walking down the street holding hands, and it’s no big deal—even in Guanajuato, which is one of Mexico’s more conservative states. Impossible in 1999!

Availability of organic and ethnic food

Unbelievably, for a coffee-exporting country, I can remember bringing down coffee from the U.S. when we first came here! Now you can find Chiapas or Veracruz coffee anywhere. In health food stores and certain chain supermarkets like La Comer, you can buy gluten-free, sugar-free, organic foods, as well as Asian and other ethnic foods like tofu, miso, arborio rice, coconut milk, and so on. Twenty years ago the only international food I remember seeing on a supermarket shelf was low-quality soy sauce.

Along with an expansion of foods, we see a wide variety of ethnic and organic restaurants, from Lebanese to Thai, Indian to Japanese, vegan to Mediterranean. These restaurants proliferate not just in Guanajuato, but in other cities we’ve visited.

As for drinks, while beer and tequila are still Mexican favorites, wine has a much larger footprint than it did a generation ago, and Guanajuato even hosts a wine festival every year. If you haven’t tried Mexican wine, you’re in for a treat.

Fitness activities

As long as we’ve lived in Guanajuato, we’ve always been able to find gyms, Zumba classes, and martial arts centers, but the availability of classes offering mind-body modalities like yoga, Pilates, Tai Chi, and qigong has increased hugely.

Outdoor fitness activities like hiking, rock climbing, trail running, and mountain biking are also much more common. Mountain bikers sporting their Lycra fitness shorts regularly wheel through Guanajuato’s uneven streets (speaking of shorts, you never saw anyone wearing them before, whereas now you do occasionally, though they’re still not completely accepted).

One type of sports equipment I rarely see in Mexico is the manual scooter. I would have expected it to be very popular because it’s so lightweight and less expensive than a bicycle.

Transit

Guanajuato has much more traffic than twenty years ago, and nowadays, streets are frequently backed up. Worse, the ancient buses still emit diesel fumes. With the city’s narrow streets and many climbing alleys, it’s not particularly bike-friendly. Mexico City, Querétaro, Monterrey, and Puerto Vallarta are way ahead in offering dedicated bike paths, and Mexico City’s EcoBici program is now the largest in Latin America.

Increase in U.S. expats

In the last four years, the number of U.S. citizens applying for temporary residency cards in Mexico more than doubled, from approximately 5,400 to 12,300. This is a mixed bag. While expats can contribute good to the community, we also bring gentrification (as we have discussed before), leading to a glut of Airbnbs and higher rents, which makes most homes, especially in city centers, out of reach for locals.

Changes in environment and climate

As anyone who has been in Mexico in the last three months knows, the climate crisis has brought extreme heat, drought, and water shortages that threaten the viability of life here.

Of course, many things have not changed, and one of them is the kindness and friendliness of the Mexican people. I’m often surprised by the lack of hostility I experience in Mexico, given our nations’ shared history and the intermittently unfriendly policies of the U.S. government. Not once have I experienced any resentment directed towards me. While not all the changes in the last 20 years have been positive, I believe the kindness and warmth of the Mexican people is why not a single expat I know regrets calling Mexico home.

Louisa Rogers and her husband Barry Evans divide their lives between Guanajuato and Eureka, on California’s North Coast. Louisa writes articles and essays about expat life, Mexico, travel, physical and psychological health, retirement and spirituality. Her recent articles are on her website, https://authory.com/LouisaRogers

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