MEXICO

Imagine you are 22 years old, you’ve packed everything you own in your car and you’re saying good bye to your parents.  Your destination is Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico.  Your plan is to drive to Arkansas tonight, find a hotel and sleep. Then onwards until you ascend to Guadalajara.

You have the name of a family friend’s son who lives there and nothing else.  Crossing the border is a trip.  Mexican customs empty your car.  You pack again.  There is a long stretch of desert highway you have to traverse before hitting the Mexican equivalent of the Grand Canyon.  You are traveling at 110 mph when way off in the distance your see something in the middle of the road.  You slow down.  The little thing is getting bigger.  It’s a fucking tank!  You slam on the breaks and stop 10 feet from the barrel.  I truthfully don’t know how I didn’t piss myself.

Yep, it’s the Mexican MILITARY and they are hunting for bribes.  In my case, they wanted underwear, jeans and toothpaste.  (On future trips, I coated my underwear in chocolate). They left the electronics.  Go figure!  They were quite nice after taking what they wanted.  They even warned me that there were “bandits” in the mountains.

The mountains were more frightening than the military.  In some places, the road narrowed to 1.5 lanes with frequent switchbacks, animals, buses, trucks, pot holes, and troop carriers.  No lights and no signage made traveling after dusk particularly perilous.  Obviously, I made it, found a hotel and slept awakening to a whole new world.

After 5 years of Spanish classes, I could read but not speak Spanish.  Day one I set out to find Allen and Judy Goodman.  They took me under their wings and showed me the ropes.  I registered for 3 months of extensive Spanish classes and for medical school.  Allen graduated and I took over his house lease, moved in and found roommates.  RIP, Allen.

Our next-door neighbor was a wealthy Mexican Industrialist.  His home was a compound with Mexican barbed wire (broken glass embedded in concrete), gated entrance and an ancient partially blind and deaf armed guard.  The old man liked us but nights were potential problems as he had trouble identifying us in the dark.  Lucky for us, Don Jorge was to become a good friend; and, by the way, he had a phone!  The only one on the block.  (To get a phone, you had to buy the poles and wire them to your house.)  At the time I lived in Mexico, there was no middle class.  Either you lived with the rich or with the poor.  We lived with the rich.

Mexico was a life altering experience.  It took all the swagger out of “Milo” and taught me that the way Americans think is not necessarily the only way to think.  The first lesson was embedded in the language.  The words for why and because are pronounced the same.  When you ask the question, why, you answer yourself, because.  Simply put, you stop asking why which leaves simply accepting whatever comes your way.  Once you’ve learned acceptance, life actually gets easier. (I’ve had problems maintaining acceptance.)

Once you’ve seen poverty like I witnessed in Mexico, you are more appreciative of what you have.  My fellow students and I were sent to remote villages to practice medicine.  We were dressed in our white uniforms, placed in the back of a truck and driven down dirt roads to our destination.  By the time we arrived, we were covered in dirt.

We were given a building with a dirt floor, dirt walls and thatched roof and were told to sweep it out and set up our clinic.  The town folks brought in whatever medications they had and we organized their leftover meds into a pharmacy of sorts.  We then proceeded to see our patients.  A typical patient might come in with a mayonnaise jar filled with the worm that came out of him/her in the morning.  Worms are awesome.

One day, I was invited to lunch at one of the town elder’s home.  Lunch was soup and bread.  They had one piece of meat and it was on my dish.  Despite the poverty, Mexicans find happiness in the simplest of things.  They are a warm and giving people who make the most of what they have.

On a road trip back to the states, my water pump blew.  My roommate and I pulled over in front of a dirt hut and waited for roadside assistance.  The family greeted us and offered the use of the hut for shade, water and food which we graciously refused.  Eventually, the “Green Machine” installed a new water pump.  As they filled my radiator with disgusting water from a rusted oil drum, I told my friend, “I don’t want that crap in my car.”  That’s when one of the little kids dipped his cup in the barrel and drank it up.  This poor family was giving us their drinking water.  It was truly a humbling experience! I will always be grateful for the gifts Mexico gave me.

Renee knew me when I was a cocky, privileged Wahoo that she would never fall in love with.  I met her again when I returned from Mexico, a changed man that she quickly fell in love with.  What started off as a disaster, not getting accepted to a US medical school, turned out to be one of the best things that ever happened.

There are thousands of stories about my life in Mexico.  Most are so unbelievable that, even though I lived through them, I find it hard to believe.  I’ll tell you some from time to time but enough for today. 

Here’s your joke of the day.

A Mexican is strolling down the street in Mexico City and kicks a bottle lying in the street.

Suddenly out of the bottle comes a Genie. The Mexican is stunned and

the Genie says, “Hello master, I will grant you one wish; anything

you want.”

The Mexican begins thinking, “Well, I really like drinking tequila.”

Finally, the Mexican says, “I wish to pee the finest tequila whenever I want a drink.

The Genie grants him his wish.

When the Mexican gets home, he gets a glass out of the cupboard and

pees in it. He looks at the glass and it’s clear. Looks like tequila.

Then he smells the liquid. Smells like tequila. So, he takes a taste

and it is the best tequila he has ever tasted.

The Mexican yells to his wife, “Consuelo, Consuelo, come quickly!”

She comes running down the hall and the Mexican takes another glass

out of the cupboard and fills it. He tells her to drink it. It is

tequila.

Consuelo is reluctant but goes ahead and takes a sip. It is the best

tequila she has ever tasted. The two drank and partied all night.

The next night the Mexican comes home from work and tells his wife to

get two glasses out of the cupboard. He proceeds to fill the two

glasses. The result is the same. The tequila is excellent and the

couple drinks until the sun comes up.

Finally, Friday night comes and the Mexican comes home and tells his

wife, “Consuelo, grab one glass from the cupboard and we will drink

Tequila.”

His wife gets the glass from the cupboard and sets it on the table.

The Mexican begins to fill the glass; and, when he fills it, his wife

asks him, “But, Pancho, why do we need only one glass?”

Pancho raises the glass and says, “Because tonight, Mi Amor, you

drink from the bottle.”