|
I was looking for my passport tonight after I posted a message to you and was reminded of an experience in Puerto Angel in February of this year. I drove a friend to Pto. Angel from Mazunte and stopped by a small touristy gift shop for a couple of gifts to take home the following day. As you've mentioned, there is a shortage of change there. I told the clerk to keep the change - which was not a considerable amount. When I got back to Mazunte, I found that I had left my cloth wallet at the store along with my passport, credit card, drivers license and a small amount of cash - about $50.00 US in pesos. I drove back as quickly as I could safely. The clerk was still there, and I asked about the wallet--with little Spanish on my part, little English on hers. We finally communicated, and she handed me the wallet from the cash drawer...intact. I gave her a small tip along with profuse thanks. I crossed the street to the truck and she came running across gesturing wildly. She walked up to the vehicle and handed me a small shell souvenir item with a very large and very sincere smile. What a great feeling.
I don't know the name of the shop, but it is a small single room storefront at the top of a high curb and several steps. They sell clothing, local arts and crafts and other tourist items. They also are purveyors of honesty and friendship - especially when dealing with a rather disorganized gringo preoccupied with the trip home the next day. All of my memories of the Pto. Angel/Mazunte area are good ones, but this is one of the best.
p.s. A copy of your passport is not a bad idea when travelling. The loss of mine would have been very inconvenient, but I had a copy in my pack at the beach.
Bill Brecheen
whbassoc@earthlink.net
September 1998
The following postings appeared in the newsgroup rec.travel.latin-america beginning 6/28/98 under the subject "Positive Mexico stories":
I see a lot of stories about the need for caution in Mexico (and elsewhere in Latin America) because of the crime, etc., etc. No doubt they are true, but I'd like to share a couple of instances on the flip side of the coin, where people's honesty really made my day. I was in Hermosillo, Sonora, and had taken a taxi to my hotel. The driver didn't have change for the smallest bill I had, so I went in to the front desk of the hotel to make change. He followed me in, and I paid him. I turned around to talk to the desk clerk, but soon stopped in mid-sentence, looking around in a panic for the driver. He was
|
In May, in Puerto Escondido, Oaxaca, I took a taxi from the airport to
my hotel. As I was checking in, I fished for my wallet, but came up
with only spare change and some pocket lint. "F***!" I said
involuntarily. My wallet was gone. I had left it on the seat of the
taxi when I paid him (do you see a trend developing here?
Small events, to be sure, but they did wonders for restoring my good
opinions of the people I met.
I know we need to be cautious, but it's nice to hear positive stories
as well. Anybody else have any to share?
Curt Rosengren
Similar story in the Ixtapa area. I had just bought a new 35 mm camera
and taken it on a trip to Mexico. I went into Zihuatanejo, took some
photos, and when back to my hotel. Got to my room and realized I had left
my new camera in the taxi. Good-bye camera.
Two days later I was walking across the parking lot when I heard a "Señor,
Señor!". Sure enough, there was the taxi driver running across the lot
with my camera in hand. With all of the fares he had over those two days,
he remembered the gringo who was so careless as to leave his new camera in
the taxi.
Ernie Gorrie
Oh, another one I forgot to mention...I had gotten into a taxi outside
the second class bus station in Oaxaca city and we were pulling away
when I felt something drop in my lap. It was the Spanish-English
dictionary that I carried everywhere. It must have fallen out of my
bag when I was getting into the taxi. In the space of just a couple
seconds somebody had seen it, picked it up, and thrown it in the
window as we drove away. I was amazed.
Curt Rosengren
My wife and I were travelling a few years ago in our old VW camper
when we broke down in the desert in northern Mexico. A car travelling
in the opposite direction stopped to see what the problem was. As we
obviously needed a mechanic, he drove us 20 miles to the nearest town
(the opposite direction to where he was headed), found a mechanic and
drove us all back to our van.
Getting stuck in the sand near a beach (Zipolite) also had half a
dozen helpers immediately coming to our aid.
This sort of attitude is what makes us keep going back.
Jim N.
I find travelling a lot like teaching. One seems to spend an
inordinate amount of time on the few disruptive students, and ignore
the vast majority of good students. We need to be aware when we travel
of the need for common sense, but we need to focus on the positive.
Thanks for posting a positive message.
Judith
I have a couple of motor home stories. I was trying to get to Queretaro
from Mexico City in my 23 foot motor home. Not the most maneuverable of
vehicles and as anyone knows the signage on Mexican highways is awful. I
came to a traffic circle (glorietta) and was trying to figure out which
road was the one to Queretaro. While my wife hastily studied the map I
just kept going around the circle. Suddenly I saw a motorcycle cop in my
side mirror. He was right beside me. He motioned for me to role my
window down. I'm thinking, "oh no, he's going to want to take my license
plate, or try to get me on something so he can get the "mordida" (bribe)
out of me. I put my window down and he asks, "Where are you going?"
"Queretaro" I say. "Follow me" he says and puts on his lights, pulls in
front of me and clears a path through the traffic. I am thinking, "Okay,
for this small service he is going to hit me up for big pesos." We
continue on a few miles, his lights still flashing. When we get to the
turn off for Queretaro he simply motions for me to turn off there. I go
right, he goes left and now I'm thinking, "What a nice guy. How could I
have thought so badly of him."
Another time I was in Tuxtla Gutierrez, Chiapas. We had gone into this
small town just to look around. As usual we headed for the centro looking
for the zócalo. We found it all right. I decided just to drive around
it. I made a right turn and looked up on a wall on the right side of the
street to see a "one way" arrow pointing in the opposite direction. As I
looked to my left I see a sign, "Policía" and 3 or 4 cops sitting on the
porch watching me going the wrong way on a one way street. I thought for
sure I was in for it, but no. They just got their laugh and waved me on.
One final story from Oaxaca state. We were on our way up the mountain to
Monte Albán. The road was extremely narrow and many switchbacks. On one
switchback I met a bus coming down from the ruins. He was partially into
my lane. All I could do was try to get over far enough without going over
the edge to miss him. As I did so, my rear tire struck a piece of jagged
concrete beside the road and blew a tire. When we finally got to the top
I tried to change the tire in the parking lot. I worked and sweated for
about an hour in the parking lot with no success at all. Then, two bus
drivers came over and without hesitation took over for me. Within 10
minutes or so they had the blown tire off and the spare on. One of them
even tore his pants on a sharp piece of metal sticking out from one of the
busses. I tried to pay the men but they wouldn't hear of it. I was
extremely grateful for their kindness.
Yes, I got my pocket picked too, but even that ended up happily because
the thief took the money and threw the wallet on the sidewalk with my
driver's license, credit cards, etc. still in it. A woman picked it up;
found a receipt from the trailer park where we were staying, called the
manager and told him where I could pick the wallet up at her place of work
just a few blocks away.
In spite of it all, there is still much more good goes on in Mexico than
bad I think.
Dan Ferguson
A few years ago, I was riding my motorcycle back to San Diego from
Enseñada. On the outskirts of Tijuana I took the wrong exit onto a
highway. Rather than follow it to the next exit to make a proper U
turn I just rode over the grassy median and made the U turn right
there. Ten seconds later, a Tijuana motorcycle cop is right behind
me with lights flashing (he: Kawasaki 1000; me: 750 Magna). I
pulled over and was told the fine was 10 bucks. All I had was a fifty
and I knew he would somehow "justify the fine up" to get the entire
50 dollars. Well, he only wanted the 10 and since he didn't have
change, he let me follow him to his "precinct" (my heart was racing
with fear/adrenaline!) in this little suburb where he then took me and
my 50 bill inside and gave me back 40 dollars. This blatant display of
human honesty and integrity was 180 degrees from what I'd expected
based on the stories of Mexican cops I'd heard. This gave me such
a warm fuzzy feeling that I bought a beautifully aromatic concoction
of beef, onion, cilantro and corn tortillas - otherwise known as
tacos - for my amigo policía, his partner and myself. We sat around
outside eating, drinking Tecate and admiring each others bikes. A
great day. Sure do miss my Magna.
I have another story where a whole town (Colonia Guerrera) turned
out to help me. But I'll save it para un otra día. ¡Viva Mexico!
John Harper AA5YX/2
Upon my arrival in Cancun (on my way to Belize) I became acquainted with my
collectivo [taxi shared by passengers with similar destinations] driver. I was uncertain about staying in a hotel a friend had
recommended to me - so I asked the driver if he could recommend a nice but
low budget hotel near the bus station. I didn't speak Spanish, and I told
him of my plans to take the bus the next day to Belize. Not only did he
take me to a wonderful and affordable hotel - but a block away from the bus
station (so I need not call on a taxi again the next morning) - he first
drove me to the bus station and helped me order my ticket!
During the drive down the hotel strip towards downtown Cancun, he told me
stories of the city, of Chetumal and other bits of interesting local
information. His pride in his country was obvious and his advice never
steered me wrong. He taught me a few key Spanish phrases to get me by. I've
never had such a helpful and friendly taxi ride here at home in Canada!
R. Bathurst
My brother and I drove into Mexico City on our way back to the USA, and
within 5 minutes were pulled over by an extremely surly MC Policeman
who noticed our California plates. He demanded US$50 for some
trumped-up charge, which we negotiated down to $25. We drove off
feeling angry and victimized. We then missed our way in the confusion of
Mexico City traffic; I leaned out the window and asked a taxi driver for
directions. He said it's too complicated, but just follow him. He took
us at least 4 miles through the city, winding this way and that,
directly to the highway we wanted. He refused any payment, and by his
actions erased the anger we felt at DF. Cheers
Jon
Shopping in the main market in Merida, if a vendor owes me change and
doesn't have it just then, I don't even worry - I just go on with my
shopping and know that at some point he or she will find me and give
me the change - it's never, ever failed.
There are several times, when in other parts of Mexico in small towns,
I've asked walking directions and the policeman or citizen has
accompanied me to where I was going. We simply do not have this sort
of hospitality in the USA.
Once I was driving around northern Yucatan by myself (female). Just
me and my camera. I love to follow small roads and see where they go.
One afternoon, I was photographing birds in Las Coloradas, Yucatan,
about 12k from Rio Lagartos (in other words, the end of the world),
when a uniformed policeman came chasing me down the beach at a dead
run. "Uh oh," I said to myself. He told me to follow him back to his
"office," a small building on the beach. He explained that he was the
capitán of the port and just wanted to chat. He offered me a tour of
the small freighter tied to the dock. I followed him to the ship, we
climbed a ladder and boarded a Panamanian vessel with the toughest,
wildest looking crew of men I've seen in a while. One of the
scurviest looking of them, a Mexican, introduced himself as the ship's
captain and invited me into his navigation room, showed me his radio
equipment, asked about the USA, showed me photos of his family, and I
sat around chatting and drank a few cokes with the crew (if you down
them really fast, before the ice has a chance to melt, you decrease
your chances of getting the runs). We had a delightful afternoon. I
photographed them (and sent them the pictures later). They were
perfect gentlemen. Viva Mexico.
Beryl
I have read all the postings this message has brought up to today. They show
the true nature of the Latin-American, there are just a few that are
dishonest, thieves, muggers etc. but the grand majority of good warm people
is what a foreigner finds when there.
It is a pleasure to know these good positive happy "non-accidents of
behavior". Keep coming up with these histories of good human nature.
God bless you all
Hdo
I've been lurking this list for a long time and this thread really warms my
heart.... and I have another positive story to add.
My husband and I were returning to the airport at Tuxtla G. after a great
couple of weeks in the San Cristobal/Palenque area and we were worried about
the weather. The airport was fogged in and the wind was picking up....
After an hour+ of sitting on the plane waiting to depart, the flight was
cancelled. Arrangements were made and everyone was sent back to town to spend
the night and try the next day.
Long lines at the airport the next day.... unhappy passengers.... and as we
finally approached the ticket counter to check in, I asked my spouse for the
tickets and he didn't have them. And, I didn't have them. And, we looked
through everything and zip. Finally we are at the ticket counter and I'm
struggling to explain in my rudimentary Spanish. The ticket agent reached in
his pocket and pulled out our lost tickets. Apparently, in the rush to get in
the vans the day before, I had dropped the tickets and some one turned them in.
Imagine, tickets probably worth 2 months salary to most folks there, and
someone turned them in and the agent was keeping his eye out for us. What a
miracle.
Linn
Here's another Mexico story. It starts off bad but has a good ending. Or
something.
Me and my good buddy Britt had just returned from sea and had a few days
off from our Navy duties. We decided to ride our Hondas south and spend
a
few days in Baja with no specific destination in mind. We'd gotten our
back-from-sea "urges" taken care of in San Diego and now we just wanted
to relax in a quiet place and converse about post-Navy plans, life and
women - not necessarily in that order. We found Colonia Guerrera, a
sleepy town that a one-legged turtle could walk across in about 15
minutes. As an added bonus, they turned their electricity off each
evening at about 9:00 PM. Perfect!
Our second day in town, we were enjoying a dinner of ceviche and beer at
one of the 3 sit-down restaurants in town. Our bikes were out front and
our helmets were hanging from the handlebars. Not too smart of us. After
a few minutes, Britt looks out the window, jumps up and causes me to
spill ceviche liquid all over my lap and yells something about my helmet
being gone. At the same time, the waitress is running to our table and
screaming something in Spanish far too fast for me to understand about
"ladrones maricones" and "tu casco" and pointing at an old black
pick-up that was speeding away. I ran out to my bike and went after them
without stopping to realize that there wasn't a damn thing I could do
when I caught up to them. Fortunately, it didn't progress to that point
as the dust they were kicking up flew right into my eyes (no helmet = no
face shield) so I turned around to rejoin Britt at the restaurant.
By now, everyone in the place knew what had happened and were apologizing
to me. The waitress was on the verge of tears. Babies were crying. Old
ladies were fainting. Dogs were yelping and blind men were able to see.
The plastic Jesus salt shaker on my table up-righted itself. A big man
grabbed me by the arm, "Vamanos gringo!", dragged me to his truck and
we
went looking for the ladrones. I yelled at Britt to stay with the bikes
but he was tending the fainted ladies and probably didn't hear me. So me
and The Man, whose name I never learned, lit out into the Mexican night
in search of lost motorcycle accessories and (hopefully) danger, both
real and imagined. Well - at least imagined.
To make a long story short, we never found the helmet or the pick-up
truck. I never finished my ceviche. The restaurant owner refused to allow
me and Britt to pay for our dinner. So we tipped the hell out of them to
cover the cost of our meals. The next morning, we had breakfast at a
different restaurant and people I'd never seen before came up to our
huevos rancheros-laden table to express their sorrow for what had
happened the night before. A little girl about 5 years old gave me a
pack
of Chiclets. Just walked up to me, dropped them in my shirt pocket,
smiled and walked away. As we headed back north to San Diego and all
things familiar, including our dreaded submarine, we rode past the
restaurant from the night before. The waitress was out front. We waved to
her, she blew me a kiss. At least I like to think it was for me and not
Britt. For a brief second, I entertained the fantasy of romance and a
peaceful life in Mexico and....well okay, back to San Diego. And oh yeah
- Britt's motorcycle had a small windshield on it so he loaned me his
helmet for the long ride north so that I would have some eye protection.
Whenever I'm not in Mexico, I think about my next trip to Mexico. I love
it there. I like the food, the music, the language, the pace of life and
most
of all, the people. I miss having easy access to the country, I
miss my bike and I miss the smell of tortillas. I miss being 23 years
old. And, 14 years later, Britt's still a damn good guy.
John Harper AA5YX/2
We were on our way to the airport with a rent-a-car, and stopped for breakfast. On our way out, we saw our car on a towtruck. Apparently there was a footrace, and they were clearing the street (we did not see any signs). We rushed up and talked to the tow truck driver, who was not sympathetic. The sergeant came over, explained this situation to us, and asked if we had our keys. The sergeant told the towtruck driver to lower the car, and told us to drive away. We shook his hands with a muchas gracias, and drove to the airport. So don't assume that you will have a problem just because a cop has stopped you. This happened to be in Los Mochis.
Richard
Wife and I were in Playacar and I was dying for tamales. We asked around and was told to go to this local restaurant (El Chino, I believe) and so we did. But we didn't see tamales mentioned anywhere on the menu and the waiter explained that tamales were regarded as "common folk's food" and only sold by street vendors. I guess he saw the disappointment in our eyes because he told us to come back the next day. The next night we stopped by the restaurant, the waiter hopped on a bus, went downtown, bought us the tamales, came back and served them to us in the restaurant and charged us what they cost him ($2 for six tamales). We left a huge tip.
It's these little incidents that endear Mexico and its people to our hearts.
JP
curtr@accessone.com
Travel Photos: www.accessone.com/~curtr/travelphotos.htm
edgorrie@istar.ca
The Tropical Dream Maker http://rogue.northwest.com/~holt/privatevacations/7211
curtr@accessone.com
Travel Photos: www.accessone.com/~curtr/travelphotos.htm
jnott@echo-on.net
Toronto
pasco@olympus.net
fergusond@moose.byu.edu
YashicaMat 124G Info Page: http://home.att.net/~j..harper
bathurst@globalserve.net
Ontario, Canada
dreyer@well.com
berylg@nwrain.com
garciah@flash.net
clinnmurph@aol.com
j..harper@.att.net
YashicaMat 124G Info Page: http://home.att.net/~j..harper
raferguson@worldnet.att.net
jpham@csd.sgi.com
www.tomzap.com
Tom Penick:
tom@tomzap.com