Because Last Week I Posted on Saturday...

Buckle up and hold on tight. It's going to be a bumpy ride.

I've got a lot on my mind this morning. For one thing, someone called Bitsy Parker, my virtual friend, an Ugly American because she was less-than-impressed by her time in Mexico. So less-than-impressed that she packed her family up early, cut her losses, and headed home before her vacation was scheduled to be over. Of course the women who said it were Mexican ex-pats and they said it from the American side of the border, where I am sure they were sipping clean tap water while wiping their pampered tushies with Charmin toilet paper.

I am an Ugly American, people. No, scratch that. I am an Ugly Person.

I judge, people. I have high expectations in spite of all of Mr. Poppins admonishments that the secret to happiness is low expectations. I am never content with single ply toilet paper. I do not like water that tastes like anything but water. If I were to get dysintery from another country's supposedly-potable H2O, I would hold it against that country for life.

Once upon a time The Dol, Diosa, and I went to Mexico. When we crossed the border we were immediately accosted by street urchins, very filthy street urchins, hawking chiclet. They were grabby little buggers and no, I did not feel bad for them. They were predators and I was the prey. They were not sympathetic. They were not pathetic. They were crusty little cudges who would beat me with their own mamas if they thought it would make money fly out of my pockets. I will say for the record that not one of them looked like they had missed any meals lately, although all of them had definitely missed having regular baths.

I am an INTJ and, as such, I unilatterally don't like being touched by strangers, people, even when their hygiene is above reproach. I don't care if they are kids or saints or Brad Freaking Pitt. I don't care if they are sanctified by God. And if they are filthy, I don't care if they are my own mama. No strangers and no filthy person (with the possible exception of Mr. Poppins just after he has saved the planet from total annihilation) should ever, ever touch me. Find me one INTJ who doesn't feel this way and I will find you a person who has been mis-typed.

Back to the point.

While we were in Mexico, Diosa earned her nickname. The men who hoochie-coochie hooted at me, declared it was their birthday and demanded sweaty hugs, which I was too polite/horrified/confused to decline, gazed at Diosa in awe. We were, all three of us, only twenty-two and she was Mexico's woman. She also bought the biggest t-shirt she could find to cover her previously-considered modest tank-top with and race-walked across the border back to the United States. Diosa who has on occasion been labeled brazen but never, not once, shy.

I always say that what I remember the most about my time in Tijuana was that it smelled like donkey urine. Mr. Poppins always corrects me, saying "that smell was people urine." Lots of people urine, people. Lots of people urine.

When we were in Mexico, I had to go to the bathroom so bad that my eyes were swimming. I never even looked for a place to relieve myself. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to wash the dirty off of my eyeballs if I so much as looked at a public restroom down there. Now, I have sat on gas station toilets, people, without seat covers. I have purposefully hyperventilated so I could hold my breath long enough to tinkle in roadhouse bar privies. If I have to go, I will go, people.

But not in Tijuana.

In Tijuana I knew that I would rather have the pee run down my leg and into my tennis shoe than "drop trou" anywhere in that city. I didn't even complain. I was resigned to my fate. You know that the situation has to go pretty far before I am resigned to anything, people.

So what do I do? Do I go to Mexico and expect everyone to speak English? Do I complain loudly about the smell and the general lack of sanitation on Revolución? Nope. I stay home, people. I stay where filth has limits and children have supervision. I stay where the vendors assume that if you wanted gum you'd walk into a gas station and purchase some.

Am I an ugly American? I don't think so but maybe. You see, I equate ugly Americans with those people who travel expecting everyone to accomodate to their every whim. I equate ugly Americans to those people who just talk louder as if deaf and no English were the same thing. I equate ugly Americans to those people who are rude and obnoxious and, what was that word again, oh yeah, rude.

I do not think having standards makes a person ugly. I do not think deciding to stay home in the future rather than return to a place that makes your skin crawl makes a person a jerk. I do not think disliking a particular place makes someone a snob. I don't like the East School Street area in my home town but it's still nicer than the parts of Tijuana I've seen. Do I believe that what I've seen of Mexico speaks for all of Mexico? Heck, no. It's a pretty big country and I imagine that as a country it shows the same diversity in culture and landscape as New York, New Mexico, and New Zealand (okay, so I over-reached for that one but New Jersey and New Hamphire just weren't wacky enough).

I imagine that there are pristine, beautiful, breathtaking parts of that country. Parts I will never see because I saw Tijuana first and it was worse than pre-Katrina New Orleans on Ash Wednesday after Mardi Gras 2000. That was skanky. Ick. Ick. Ick.

But I also know that things happen in Mexico that would never happen in the United States, like people can't leave the country if they have a car accident, people are abducted for laughable amounts of ransom, and people are jacked up eight-ways-to-Sunday by civilians with badges who claim to be the law. I know that not too long ago the Mexican government sent troops in to overcome the Tijuana police department as a whole because it is so corrupt. I know that my Mexican-American friends don't recommend Tijuana as a tourist destination even, or especially, if it was once their hometown.

I know that I was completely uncomfortable there.

I also know that my in-laws just got back from the Mexican Riviera where they "ministered" to locals by bringing tortillas to the city dump, where third-generation heap-dwellers called the trash pile home sweet home. I know that even the nicest resorts are surrounded by abject poverty and human suffering that is beyond anything we ever saw walk out the aforementioned Katrina-swamped New Orleans.

I know that I would rather stay home and watch Y Tu Mamá También, one of my all-time favorite movies, in the comfort of my own living room. I know I would rather read Ask A Mexican in my own bed than risk sleeping in a Tijuana hotel. I know that my opinion of Mexico was that it was a bright, vibrant, and culturally rich country until I actually stepped foot in the country. I went there expecting different but beautiful, different but more vibrant, different but somehow more authentic than the United States.

Boy was I disappointed. Old Town San Diego is the Mexico I was hoping for and in the future I'll keep that in mind.

Give me Mexican food, Mexican movies, and Mexican beer. Give me Mexican music, Mexican dancing, and Mexican linens. But give them to me in the United States where I can also have American water and toilet paper. And where, hey, a guy will buy me a drink before he tries to feel me up.

Ugly American my behind. Say that from the other side of the border. Say that when there's no Armani Exchange in driving distance. Say that when there's no Greyhound Bus service promising every runaway a free ride home. Ugly American?

Fine.

I'll accept that insult if it makes certain Señoritas feel better. But when Mexican ex-pats are sitting on this side of the border, lobbing insults from the relative comfort of their McMansions, who do they think they are talking about?

It takes one to know one, Chica.

P.S. Elizabeth Penley, author of Motherstyles, has an excellent article on how to choose a vacation that is compatible with your personality type. My ideal vacation is an educational seminar.

Comments

[Liza]

Oh Polly, I could not agree with you more.

As an avid traveler and lover of 'interesting places', a germaphobe who has even used 'stand-over-toilets' in the pursuit of cultural understanding, this post could, potentially, make me unhappy. But really, i completely agree with you.

my friend from school recently got married and fully expected me to go to his wedding even though it was in Mumbai, on the 1st of July. No amount of hand sanitizer and/or Charmin-to-go toilet paper could make me brave that. Call me spoiled, but rat infested streets, 120 degree weather, holy cow piles on the sidewalk, water that will make me puke, food that is not safe to eat, stinking garbage all over the place and gazillions of people with quite different views of personal hygiene and personal space than mine - well that's just too damn much for me.

Some people may think that over-eager street urchins and heaps of garbage are ‘authentic’. I think it’s called ‘poverty’ and poverty is not a tourist attraction.

Wanting to brush your teeth with tap water without getting mortally ill doesn’t make you an Ugly American. An Ugly American is someone who arrives at the Bolshoy Theater in jeans and sneakers with plastic shopping bags.

[Diosa]

I definitely have no desire to ever return to Mexico. I really haven't been out of the country enough to draw any other comparisons. I am sure I am not only an Ugly American but an Ugly Traveler. To keep my mood swings under control it is very important that I keep my body on a regular schedule for sleep, eating and exercise. I have to be careful on vacation to not over-do it or I become a raging bitch.

[Liz]

Being a chef, I have worked with Mexican (illegal) immigrants for years. Some of them are the most amazing people I've ever met. That experience has definitely changed my views on immigration laws in the US. It has also made me so much more aware of how fortunate I am to have the life I do in the country I do.

My (Mexican) friend Rigo used to tell me the only places in Mexico that you should ever visit are the little towns that no one would know about unless they were from there. He told me about his first trip to Mexico City and how scared he was when he got there. He called it the dirtiest place he had ever seen. "Take me back to my little town" he said.

If I ever visit Mexico, which I hope I do, it will only be because one of my friends has invited me to stay in their "little" town. When the Mexicans tell me that Mexico is a dirty nasty place, I'm going to take their word for it.

Hey, Polly - have you seen Raising Victor Vargas?

[Polly Poppins]

Liza, thanks for the support!

Diosa, I have the same vacation limitations as you. I finally came to the conclusion that I will never see Europe unless I can teleport there and have a babelfish implanted in my ear. I will also never see Hawaii for the same flying over the ocean for way to long reason, although my Hawaiʻi Pidgin English is actually quite good.

Liz, I have not seen Raising Victor Vargas but I will add it to my netflix list if you say it is good.

[Liz]

It's a really cute movie. I love the grandma character. I'd love to hear what you think about it.

[Liza]

i just read this post again... and i'm cracking up about: I equate ugly Americans to those people who just talk louder as if deaf and no English were the same thing. HAHA!! that never ceases to amaze me. every time i'm back in mother russia i see american tourists getting louder and louder when russian museum guards (babushkas in bonnets) don't understand them... hello people!! they're not deaf! they just happen to speak RUSSIAN!!!! eeeh-gad!

[Diosa]

I had to google babelfish. Never heard of that before. Absolutely ingenious.

[Polly Poppins]

Liza, I would travel with you to mother russia, maybe. If you promised to be in charge and be good at it.

Diosa, babelfish is also from Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy and a "real" pretend fish. It's yellow.

[Bookgirl]

I think my travel bug and your lack thereof is one of the things that's most different about us. I have a tendency to go back to the same places, but that's just because I'm still paying off my credit card debt and those places are cheap/free. If I had a little more discretionary income, I'd be all over the place.

[The Dol]

Here's my take. (And let me give you the perspective from whence this take comes: I grew up in one of the poorest parts of the United States, where I had friends who had no phone or running water; I was a Spanish major in college and traveled all over Mexico with another friend back in my college days.)

Yes, Mexico is less developed than the United States in general. They definitely have security issues--it's gotten worse since I was there. It's also true that, outside of Tijuana and Juarez (both border towns, by the way), Mexico has some beautiful and pleasant places to go. I loved Mexico and had overwhelmingly positive experiences with the people there.

Yes, there is poverty. Personally, I'm a little uncomfortable talking about how icky it is to be touched by kids peddling chicle (gum). I respect your honesty, though, Polly. I'd much rather focus on what a sucky life that must be for them and their parents. I dread even imagining the things that happen to kids living a life like that. And this is strictly how I personally look at this sort of thing--it doesn't make me think I'm right or better. Probably just hightlights my bleeding heart liberal tendencies to your libertarian tendencies.

(This post is already too long, but a short story: my mom had a student years ago, kindergarten I think, who came to school every day in the same clothes. They were dirty, and she was hungry. My mom would take her home--we lived right by the school--every day at lunch or recess and wash her clothes, give her a bath, and feed her a meal. She said she cried about it every day. So, when you talk about dirty street urchins and how you don't like them touching you, I think about how those urchins are someone's kids and there may be no one to make sure they eat something every day or get a bath from time to time. And Polly, I know you know that--you're the one who always says, "We should treat every kid like she's irreplaceable, because she is." You're defending bitsy, and I love that about you.)

As to the ex-pats sitting in the U.S. and taking offense at comments about Mexico, I'm not sure I agree that they don't have that right. The presumption here seems to be that they left for the comfy U.S. to escape Mexico because they didn't want to be there, but we don't know why they're here, and being here doesn't preclude them from having an opinion about what's said about their home country. I think the poster at bitsy's site needed to take a chiller and come at it in a different way, if her intention was to actually have anyone hear her out. Just my opinion.

Love bitsy. Love you, Polly. Love all around.

[Polly Poppins]

Dol, as always a perfectly well-reasoned and loving comment from your corner. I love to you, too, and I am always glad when you add a little balance to my Pollycentric worldview.

McMansion ladies first: Of course these ladies might be poor, but it makes it easier to lob back at them if I assume they live in my neighborhood. But good point and well taken. As for the meat of it, I don't think I took offense so much to them defending their home country as I did to the inferrence (mine) that they believe people should overlook the poverty and physical conditions and focus on the pretty.

As for the kids, I agree with you completely. That is exactly how I feel about theoretical children forced to hawk chiclet but to trumpet that as my position would be a complete whitewash of my actual feelings upon arrival in Tijuana.

From here, they seem harmless, if a little overeager and germy. From there, they seemed like a mob.

[Diosa]

Dol, such a great perspective. I have to say I don't even really remember the kids, it's just the men making me fear for my life that's etched in my memory. That probably makes me self-centered or snooty but there it is. I don't remember how clean or dirty it was. I don't remember if I had to pee or not. I don't remember if we ate or drank anything. I don't remember how hot or cool it was. I just remember the two of you enjoying how uncomfortable I was receiving all the lecherous looks and threatening to leave me there.

[Polly Poppins]

Diosa, it was dirty; you were too scared to pee; we neither ate nor drank; it was pretty hot but that didn't have any affect on your decision to layer. And, yes, we are bad people.