That's What She Said: Mexico Part Dos
- Dawn Dumont | March 07, 2014
It's close to midnight and we're hurtling down the road from our resort to the city of Puerto Vallarta in a van. Half of us don't have seatbelts on and three people are sitting on the floor. A bride and I know she's a bride because shes still wearing her wedding dress keeps heckling the driver to go faster and he responds, "Don't bother a Mexican man when he's drinking." We all laugh, at least one of us out of hysterical fear.
Not for the first time I think, maybe Canadians want to die in Mexico?
Before I left for our neighbours to the far south, my mom, who only watches T.V. shows that are depressing or frightening, told me to never, ever, stand on a balcony while in Mexico. It does seem like a lot of Canadians have fallen off or through them. Oddly enough, the very first thing I did when getting to Mexico was run to the nearest balcony and lean over it - it's like a compulsion!
All the negative media attention gave me the feeling that maybe Mexicans don't want us visiting, like maybe they want to keep their paradise all to themselves like the only woman at a Brazilian soccer tournament (a highly recommended fantasy).
Being unwelcome while travelling is definitely more familiar to me than the latter. When I was a kid, my family travelled a lot but I never felt wanted anywhere, particularly in the motels we stayed in. It's probably because we weren't supposed to be staying in them. As we pulled into the parking lot, mom would split us kids into registered guests and non-registered. The non-registered had to duck down in the car. Then after she signed in herself and the least sloppy kid, she would drive around the back, let the three dirty kids out and we would skulk around to a side door where the lucky kid (usually my older sister) would let us in.
Later we would head down the pool and nervously glance at the sign that said, "for registered guests only," before heading inside in t-shirts and cut-offs. It was a super-fun ten minutes before we got kicked out for wearing non-regulation bathing suits and also, for doing cannonballs, which are admittedly number three on the list of the most annoying things you can do in a pool peeing and eating cheezies being one and two respectively.
My first time as a registered guest was probably around the age of 19 when I got my first credit card. I rented a hotel room, and like a good Cree girl, I promptly snuck in a bunch of family members (a "bunch" is any number higher than 6 but lower than 10 where you officially become a "tribe.") We almost got kicked out when one of my family members rolled off the bed and his naked back was exposed to the security guard doing his rounds that night. The security guard furiously knocked on the door like a member of the Gestapo. I had to get up from my bed in the bathtub to go see what was wrong while the rest of my guests scrambled into hiding places like cockroaches.
But Mexico isn't unfriendly like a certain hotel chain that rhymes with Schm-oliday Inn. First trip into town, we made friends with a cab driver named Gabriel. He told us that tourism in Mexico was down significantly because of all the negative press. He didn't deny that bad stuff happened in Mexico (and how could he? According to CBC news, 15,000 people were killed by drug cartels last year.) But Gabriel explained, "That stuff happens when people go looking for drugs." Although I couldn't figure out what drugs had to do with the falling-off the-balcony situation, I agree drugs can bring you into contact with some unsavoury people. Like one time I bought weed from my older sister who later stole it back and then told on me.
The good part of the lower tourism rates is that all Canadian visitors are pampered like minor celebrities. Mexicans offered to make our drinks, carry our bags and rub our bellies when we ate too much. With such excellent service, we cavorted about the resort like giant drunk pandas with sunburns (which is another, highly recommended, fantasy.)