Viva en Mexico

An account of the days leading up to my arrival, and first day, in Ciudad del Carmen, Mexico as a high school exchange student. The year is 1998.

Prelude

It was a time of great discovery. 
It was a time to let things happen. 
It was the time to take a chance. 
It was the great discovery to let things happen by chance. 

And a good thing it was, because things don’t always turn out as expected…

1. Just the Beginning

The day has come, and John is edgy. Looking around the roomful of relatives and friends, however, makes him happy as he releases his tension with one heavy breath. Everyone is standing or sitting somewhere, talking or listening to someone – everyone together because of him. The occasion: tomorrow, while all the others will remain more or less geographically stationary, tomorrow John is gone. 

And to think, it was just two months ago to the day that most of the same crowd had gathered here at his house for an end-of-the-school-year BBQ. Back then they were talking mostly about their high school happenings and catching up on local gossip. On the back porch, John overheard his Grandpa ask his friend, “Where is it you’re going to college again David?”

“Mountus Unionus,” David replied. Using the Latin name stamped on the crest of the college in town, David was being mockingly ironic of himself, a self-proclaimed townie for life, but adding some spice to an otherwise bland conversation. John’s Grandpa, who also went to Mount Union College, and who really was a life-long townie, said something in response, something polite, something else…

2. Getting Ready

“Where was it you are going to college again David?” John overhears his Grandpa ask as he smilingly walks past them at his going away party.

“The Union of Mount,” says David, referring of course to the local college where his Grandpa also went, where his mom and dad went, where his sister went, and where his future wife and children will be sure to have gone as well.

That night John does most of his packing. At seventeen he had already had some experience traveling, however, never alone, and never for this long. His two suitcases full of cloths, books, and presents for his new hosts accompany him the next day to the airport, along with his mom, dad, brother, and David. They exchange kisses and hugs and watch him board his flight. John looks back at them all for what would be the last time for the next six months.

3. Texas

Touch down Houston. It is August, and while it is hot in Ohio, Texas is much hotter. At the airport to meet him is a thin, middle-aged woman with pink-soled sandals from Seattle named Bonnie. The contrast between her refreshing attitude and style on the one hand, and, on the other hand, the sharp, leathery look of one who has experienced life to the fullest, makes it impossible to judge her age fairly. She is the head coordinator of I.C.E.P., the exchange program. 

He thinks back to only a few short months ago in April while on his way to a soccer game he turned and said to his mom, "I think I want to be an exchange student." "Well," she replied after a short pause, "we'll have to start researching it."

The next day at school John went to the guidance councilor’s office to discuss the possibility of his plan. Maybe because it was something other than slapping the wrist of another bratty teenager, or maybe it was because his son had been an exchange student some years before, but Mr. Turner was enthusiastic to help. He pulled down a book from a tiny shelf behind his bare desk and handed it to John. It was already too late in the year to get involved with one of the larger programs that sponsor exchange students, like The Rotary Club or A.F.S. "Take a look through this,” Mr. Turner said. “Find programs whose deadlines haven’t passed yet and we'll narrow it down from there." 

That afternoon John read through a list of programs that sounded exciting. Most were smaller organizations he had never heard of, but reading the description of each one, he found himself daydreaming about putting his feet down on distant lands, eating exotic foods, meeting interesting people… 

"We just have to wait for the van," says Bonnie calmly as she lights a cigarette off of the one she just finished. After picking up John and another girl at the same gate, Bonnie shows them where to get their luggage and where to wait while she goes off to fetch the others. In less than half an hour she returns with four more people, two boys and two girls. One of the pairs, a boy and girl, recently arrived from Seattle and seem to know one another, and Bonnie, already. They walk close and talk loud with a sort of confidence in numbers that the others lack. Another girl who just arrived is tall and black and comes from the South; the other boy is a short Latino from L.A. who talks very quietly. 

The point of this frontier encounter is that, for the next two days, this group will be discussing how to deal with culture shock and how to manage in possibly shocking cultural situations. The van unloads everyone at a Best Western and Bonnie passes out room keys. Two of the boys, Eliot from Seattle and Kevin from L.A., share a room. Then, handing him a key, Bonnie tells John that his roommate is due to arrive later on that evening. Taking the key, John wheels his bags through a set of saloon style doors and down the carpeted hallway to his room.

4. The First First

An hour or so later the door opens and another boy toting the standard two suitcases enters the room. Putting his bags down, he introduces himself as Tom from Vermont. He and John shake hands and begin to get acquainted: smiling, being friendly, making long stories short, and taking interest in what the other has to say, as these things go. Tom is a competitive cross-country skier, just graduated from high school, and has decided to postpone college to spend the next year in Mexico. John is technically in his last year of high school, so he chose to stay in Mexico for only six months so that he can return to Ohio and graduate in the spring with the rest of his class. As the conversation warms up, Tom mentions that he was a golfer in high school as well.

"Oh yeah? I golf too, but only for fun. I'm more of a soccer player actually. It's basically been my life for the past five years," says John.

"Nice. I like soccer too. We'll have to play sometime," says Tom sincerely, predicating what will become one of their favorite past times in the coming months. But for now, taking up a black notebook, he lets himself out of the room and goes outside to write and have a quiet smoke under a hazy Texan sunset.

That evening everyone meets in the hotel dining room for dinner. The menu, Tex-Mex, seems the perfect way to ease into the spicy cuisine waiting for them south of the border. Over dinner, Bonnie tells the students what she knows about their respective host families. To Sarah, the girl from the South, she says that her host family are wonderful people, and that the city she is going to live in, Oaxaca, is beautiful. Turning to Tom, she apologizes for not yet having a host family for him, but she assures him that things will get straightened out within the first weeks. “In Mexico,” she said, “things sometimes take a little longer.” In the meantime, she says, he’ll be staying in the house of Carmen, the local director of I.C.E.P. in Ciudad del Carmen. When she gets to John, she tells him that his host family, La Familia B–, own a business supplying meat to boats in the Gulf of Mexico, and she thinks that he might get to ride in their private helicopter. As Bonnie goes on to tell, she knows the B– family because their oldest son was an exchange student in America through I.C.E.P. She continues, giving the others a taste of what to expect where they are going too, and as he chews his food, John can’t stop thinking about what’s to come. 

It had been a long day for everyone. John and Tom became friends that night making wise-cracks about a Steven Seagal movie on TV before falling asleep. 

5. How John & Tom Arrive in Mexico

John and Tom arrive in Mexico wearing suits and ties. It was Tom's idea to travel formal, and the idea sounded fine to John as well. In Houston, Bonnie sends the boys on their way, informing them that a friend of hers will be waiting in Mexico City to welcome them and help them make their connecting flight to Ciudad del Carmen. Her friend, Sebastian, has no trouble recognizing the two travelers he is sent to escort that afternoon. He says he almost mistook them for Jehovah's Witnesses. Sebastian is in his early twenties. He has the dark olive complexion typical of many Mexicans and dresses smartly casual in knee-length shorts and a t-shirt. He has sunglasses on top of his head and he greets the two guys with an excited, "Bienvenido á Mexico!"

"Er, buenvendo!" John says.

"Hola!" chimes Tom.

The three have a few hours to kill in the airport. After a short while, their walking and talking brings them instinctively to a McDonald's, perhaps a subconscious testing of familiar waters before making the leap into the unknown. As they sit down Sebastian comments, "Ciudad del Carmen, huh?" The puzzled way he said it made the place sound even more exotic, simply because it sounded exotic to him.

It is 1998, and Ciudad del Carmen is a small island in the most southern waters of the Gulf of Mexico. The discovery of offshore oil brought the isle back into focus as a real place, but it remains a mystery to many Mexicans, Sebastian included. When John was told that he would be going to live in Ciudad del Carmen, the first few maps he examined showed no sign that it even existed. Turning to the internet, John tried to gain a glimpse into his future home away from home, but to no avail. The secrets of the isle were not easily unlocked. But if Bonnie left the boys with one key, it was not to worry, things have a way of working out. 

"So what time is your flight to Carmen?" asks Sebastian as he squeezes ketchup from a packet onto a single fry before popping it into his mouth. 

"5:35," says John, admiring the novelty of this ketchup application.

Sebastian gives the boys his number and tells them that they can get in touch whenever they like. John and Tom are soon airborne, climbing above Mexico City's mountainous metropolis and into the clear blue sky. Beyond the mountains the terrain becomes desolate, a golden chain of mesas and shallow valleys. The Gulf coast appears up ahead and draws a line for the plane to follow all the way to Ciudad del Carmen. 

It isn’t until the plane starts its initial descent that John and Tom can tell in more detail what is down below. From 5,000 feet they see what looks like a thick tropical rainforest abutting the sea out of the right side of the airplane. At 2,500 feet they can see waves striding onto the palm tree-lined beaches. Then, from 1,000 feet until they touch ground, the boys get the kind of first impression that only happens once. It isn’t that they don’t expect to see what they see, but it’s the fact that they don’t know what to expect that makes this landing memorable. They see more palm trees, more sand, and more waves. But as they get closer, they can also see little wooden huts with corrugated tin roofs strewn sparsely along the beach, small campfires burning meekly nearby. Dogs and people are sheltering in shady places. Naked children are splashing at the water's edge while pelicans and fishermen float further out. With mouths agape, John and Tom stare out of that tiny airplane window thinking to themselves, "Ciudad del Carmen, huh?"

6. So Far, So Perfecto

This arrival into Ciudad del Carmen had sparked the boys’ curiosity and erased any presuppositions either of them had had about where they were going. Nothing could have prepared them for what was waiting for them outside of that airplane. Their world had been turned upside down and they would either have to walk on their hands or learn to stand on their own two feet. 

Inside the glass enclosed one-room terminal an almost perfectly round woman with short curly hair is standing there holding a paper sign that says "Tom Douthat." Near her stands a man wearing a flannel shirt tucked into a well-worn pair of blue jeans. Below a tuff of gray-tipped chest hair, and directly above a thick bronze belt buckle, the man is also holding a paper sign with the letters "Jfon Weaber" handwritten on it. Supposing this to be the man in whose helicopter he will soon be flying, John pretends to recognize his name. As John approaches, the man relaxes his sign-holding pose, smiles, and introduces himself. "Soy Francisco, but call me Pancho." The woman with Tom is Carmen Gonzalez, the local director of P.I.C.I., I.C.E.P.’s acronym in Spanish. She is firm but polite, and without much conversation leads Tom away. 

"See you soon man," John says hopefully.

"Yeah you too,” says Tom. “Good luck."

John stuffs his two suitcases into the back seat of Pancho's rust-orange Volkswagen Beetle.

"I am associate of Don B–," explains Pancho as they pull out of the airport parking lot and onto a dusty two-lane highway. "El Señor is going away and la Señora and the children are with him to the airport in Cancun. 

John is sitting in the passenger seat with his arm rested on the rolled down window’s ledge, his tie shuffling slightly in the wind as he soaks in his new environment. Pancho shows him the local University, UNICAR, and a few seconds later they are circling around a fountain in the middle of a roundabout that is gloriously spraying water on a five-foot statue of a shrimp. 

"That camaron is the symbol of the isla," remarks Pancho. "Before the petrol, camarones were the primary industry aqui. And they are the most delicious camarones you will eat in your life," says Pancho proudly.

They drive further to an area introduced to John as El Centro, which is teaming with pedestrians, cars, and busses. In El Centro there is a large pavilion around which various multi-colored vendor stands are set up selling almost anything you can imagine. Turning away from El Centro, they drive down a street not unlike the others. The buildings, never more than two or three stories, are all connected so that only a sharp eye can tell where one stops and the other begins. John has never seen anything like it. The passing scenery is like flipping through an amazing picture book. He sees stuccoed walls and steel fences guarding small tropical gardens and homes of every hue. Children playing in the streets, packs of mangy dogs hanging out on every corner, and people of all ages walking down the shady side of narrow sidewalks. Just as the glowing sun is dropping out of the sky, they pull up to a gate that is being opened by an old man wearing a white cowboy hat. 

"Yo soy Perfecto," says the old man, giving his chest a slap as he beckons them to follow him into the house. 

Pancho and John enter behind the old man into a large living room with wood paneled walls. "That is Perfecto," clarifies Pancho. 

Setting down his luggage, John extends his hand to the old man saying "Yo soy John." But the living room is dark, and seemingly without seeing John's outstretched hand, the old man takes a pistol from the waist of his pants and sets it easily on top of a bookshelf. He turns and takes John's hand, smiling gently, then leads him into the kitchen where an equally old woman is stirring something steamy on the stove. 

"Es mi esposa," says Perfecto. 

"Buenas noches," John says. The old woman has a thin headscarf draped over her long gray hair. She looks up from the stove and, with a nice smile, serves him a bowl of vegetable soup. He takes the bowl and carries it to the large wooden table at the back of the kitchen. A few moments later the old woman brings over a stack of warm tortillas and takes a seat next to him.

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