Home | Libros | Prensa | Biografía | Contacto | Compra | Recomienda

The News - Novedades Editores - Mexico City
22 de mayo de 1994
©1994: Suzanne Cane y Olvera

BEYOND TACOS AND HAMBURGERS

You turn the TV on to one of the Mexican telenovelas and, American that you are, you cannot fathom how the main male character - a tall, handsome, thirty-two-year-old lawyer - is still living at home with his parents. You are not that much of a feminist, but you cannot understand what his twenty-eight-year-old sister is doing there either.

You chat with a group of eighteen-year-old, American, high school seniors. They tell you that, as of next September, they will probably never really live with their parents again. They will return to the homestead for Thanksgiving and Christmas and summer vacations, but, after four years of college, unless they cannot find a job good enough to finance their own rent, they will trade in their dormitory rooms for their own apartments and be completely on their own. You are an independent person, but this American way of growing up and getting out at eighteen feels just as wrong as the thirty-two-year-old Mexican who still lives with his mother.

You reject both ways of life. Yet, each has a certain attraction. You want your own children to be independent, but, at the same time, you do not want to cut the strings so completely when they are still so young. Could this conflict have something to do with the fact that, although you are American, you have lived in Mexico for twenty-seven years?

The border that separates the United States and Mexico is much more than a line on a map. Culturally, it is probably firmer than the demilitarized zone between North and South Korea. Many believe that McDonald's and the new American malls are erasing that line. To a certain extent, they are - but only for a few and not very deeply. The arrival of American products represents a change, but the change is superficial. The true differences between the Mexican and the American run much deeper than hamburgers and tacos and ketchup and salsa.

Do you know the word "desvelated"? Probably not. I coined it from the Spanish desvelado. Simon and Schuster's International Dictionary defines desvelado as "wakeful, sleepless; watchful, careful; anxious, worried, fearful." Anyone familiar with Mexico knows that he who gets to work desvelado is possibly also just a bit hung over and probably had himself one fine time the night before - and you can be sure it had nothing to do with insomnia. Few Americans do that kind of thing for it to be worth a word in the language. Americans do not party the night before a work day. They do not seem to understand the concept. Mexicans cannot understand why Americans cannot understand.

Another point of reciprocal misunderstanding has to do with money. Imagine that the economic signs are pointing towards a recession.

Unemployment is up. Economic growth is down. What does the American do? He proceeds immediately to cancel whatever plans he may have had for that new car, that new stereo system, that vacation. Not the Mexican. Years and years of inflation and devaluation during the eighties reaffirmed the need to spend the money while it was still worth something. If restaurant and bar attendance were the sole indicator of Mexican prosperity, the country would score number one for world economic performance. This eat-drink-and-be-merry-for inflation-may-do-us-in-again attitude is not something Americans can understand. Mexicans, on the other hand, find it difficult to grasp why an American would give up a trip to the beach for something as insignificant as money.

There is a game I play with my Mexican and American students. I have been doing it for years and always get the same results. Situation: You are on vacation with your friends. Your parents have given you 500 dollars spending money, another 500 dollars for emergencies only, and a credit card to be used only in life-and-death circumstances. How much do you spend? The Mexican kids almost inevitably say they would spend the whole thousand dollars and probably use the credit card, too. As for explaining it to their parents, they declare, "Mejor pedir perdon que permiso." (It is better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.) Almost to a man, the American kids would not spend more than the first 500 dollars. Some would even try to save half of that for a rainy day.

There is a second part to my game: During this vacation, the airline calls to say that your Sunday flight home has been cancelled and that you have the choice of flying home on Friday and missing two vacation days, or on Monday and missing an important exam. What do you do? The American kids almost always say they would cut their vacation short. The Mexican kids say they would fly home on Monday and, like Scarlet O'Hara, worry about the exam later.

I cannot help but feel that neither extreme is healthy, and I do wish we could find a way to blend the two attitudes. I like to believe I have. Like the Mexican kids, I would come back from my vacation late and miss my exam. Like the Mexican kids, I would spend all the money and even more on my credit card. But, like the American I still am, I would worry about the consequences - and feel guilty. But, somehow, I don't think that's quite the blend of attitudes I have in mind.