I’ve been in Guadalajara (Mexico’s second biggest city) for a week and a day, immersed in Spanish with the multiple and multiplying family of my Montreal Spanish tutor.

I’m trying to push the limits of my knowledge of the language against the resistance of a less-than-perfect brain and a memory which is decidedly not like flypaper holding tight forever to everything that flies its way (words, for example, which often are found orbiting around my ears like whining mosquitoes at night, or like the 100-odd electrons of some rare artificial atom, destined rarely to escape from their crazy trajectory either to collapse into the firm knowing grasp of the nucleus of my comprehension or to fly off in the other direction never to return).

In the midst of this, I’m struggling mentally and emotionally with the phenomenon of machismo, whose slightest manifestations arouse feelings of anger (which I usually suppress successfully). Some of my tutor’s sisters are practicing what in this society are alternative lifestyles; they have not married, they live alone, have careers, and suffer some persecution for it. I sometimes find myself being a mirror for reflection on Mexican society. I talk about the changes Canadian society has seen in the last thirty years and its present heterogeneity.

Comida corrida in Guadalajara. Photo by Pinkitron, Flickr

In these conversations, I’ve been pretty honest about the things that strike me. The result has been some interesting discussions about the Mexican family, the role of the Church, and male-female relationships. I wrestle with deciding when to react honestly and say what I think, and when to keep a low profile, listen, observe and ask non-judgmental questions in order to learn. It’s hard to be non-judgmental in the face of machismo, so I tell myself that being spontaneous is the best way to practice Spanish, my main goal here and now. Hopefully I’m going through a process of learning and adapting which will leave me more tolerant.

It angered me to learn, for example, that there is a dual image of “the mother”. On the one hand she is revered. On the other hand, “madre” (mother) is a general swear word, and something that, in slang, “vale (is worth) madre” is worthless.

Photo by Kevin Jaako, Flickr

Mexico is really suffering from inflation. The U.S. dollar is worth around 1370 pesos and climbing by a few pesos per day. Wages don’t generally keep up. Minimum wage is around 4000 pesos per 8-hour day ($4 CDN), less than I spend on the cheapest hotel and very economical restaurants. Most children work. Children go to primary school in up to three shifts: 7am-1pm, 2-7pm, and 7-9pm. The afternoon shift is for kids who work in the morning.

Despite the tone of this letter, I have had a very nice visit, got to know people of all ages, had fun, enlarged my vocabulary, and have become more comfortable with the language. On Wednesday I return to Mexico City where I have a couple of errands, then I’m off to a secluded beach somewhere in Oaxaca. I want to get as far away from pollution as possible and cleanse my system.