Leah Ramaekers
October 20, 2015
Central College Studies in Global Health
Summer 2015
A Gringa in the Yucatán
“Setenta pesos por el taxi señorita”. I had just landed in Mérida Mexico, feeling a little groggy from the long day of travel and was not quite ready to put my Spanish skills to the test. It became immediately apparent that I would be a little out of my element with the heat, language barrier, and the fact that thoughts of pizza rolls were already occupying my mind. Ten hours earlier I cried tears of fear and anxiety while boarding the plane. When I landed in Mexico, I was prepared for theexcursions to places like Chichen Itza and Tulum, planned to sample the best guacamole in the Yucatán peninsula, and hoped to have a little fun over the next six weeks. However, I didn’t anticipate to master the public transportation system of Mérida, improve my Spanish enough to carry on a conversation with a local, and make friends with people from a country other than my own, who I know I will remember forever. Being a gringa in the Yucatán peninsula of Mexico came with its challenges, but it also brought unforgettable memories, an openness to new people and experiences, and joyful heart that would never be the same.
The term ‘gringo’ or ‘gringa’ is used to describe Caucasian individuals from the United States, and the intent of the word varies based on context. I was immediately christened a gringa as soon as I stepped on Mexican soil and blending in was tough. My first full day in Mexico, a Mexican man stopped me in the grocery store and asked me in plain English, “Where are you from?” Trying to assimilate and fully immerse myself in the experience, I replied in Spanish, “Estoy de los Estados Unidos”. I was shocked when the man quickly responded, “Why are you talking to me like that?” I then kindly responded in English, “Well, I’m here to practice my Spanish.” I didn’t know if I should have been somewhat offended that the man had probably stereotyped me as a dumb gringa who was in Mexican for a tan and didn’t care to learn about the culture and the language. This was just the first of many struggles that being a gringa in the Yucatán brought.
During my first few weeks in Mexico, being a gringa brought a variety of challenges. While being the first one waiting patiently at the bus stop,I somehow always ended up being the last one on the bus and prayed that there was a seat. I would ask for directions countless times and was forced to smile and say thank you when I had no idea what was said. I remember one night thinking, “This bus could be taking me to Tijuana for all I know.”At first the public bus system terrified me, but over time I began to feel a sense of accomplishment after mastering the routes, paying for bus fare, and understanding the directions given to me in Spanish.
The Mexican heat was another struggle that became immediately apparent for a gringa like me. Aside from the fair skin, the gringas are the unusually sweaty individuals found consistently requesting ice water in most public places. Consequently,gringas then blow through their hard earned pesos because the water and beverage refills in Mexico are not free and it is awfully difficult to exercise restraint after hours spent in the hot Mexican sun. One of the times at a restaurant a few of my gringa friends and I reluctantly spent nearly 7 U.S. dollars on water after not adequately pacing ourselves for the meal.
As a gringa your expectations of being served chips and salsa at every restaurant in Mexico, never really goes away, but over time you begin to realize that travel is meant for dismantling preconceived notions and “doing as the Romans do.” The struggles that the language barrier brought, despite my improvement, were challenging enough to make any gringa crave the ease of understandable English. After asking the server about a particular dish, I was served the exact opposite of what I had expected and the bill was doubled. The language barrier stories of struggle ended up bringing double the laughter. Being the gringa, my skin was the first to get burnt, but I found it so endearing when the locals would sweetly ask about my “quemadopiel” also known as a sun-burn. I would never begin to understand how so many people could eat some variation of tacos for every meal. However, I learned that you shouldn’t fix what isn’t broken and a really good taco tastes especially delicious in Mexico, even if it’s the third taco you have had that day.
Though there were many struggles associated with being a gringa. It brought really amazing encounters with wonderful people and memorable experiences. The friends I had made with the locals began to affectionately refer to me as ‘gringa’. I was shown world-class hospitality at local bars, restaurants and by professors who referred to me as preciosa. Excursions to Mayan ruins, local pueblas, soccer games, and beaches brought the Mexican culture to life. I will always remember the colorful city wall, vibrant music, and people on the streets who smiled and said hello rather than bury their heads in their phones. While enjoying the a day at the beach, I was scheduling my next few days out loud, being a typical gringa, when a local friend swiftly reminded me that in Mexico life is meant to be enjoyed.
“You will always have a home here in Mexico.” These words made my heart swell and break simultaneously. And at that moment, I couldn’t imagine leaving Mexico. Yet, I beyond ready to feel air conditioning and be served free restaurant water of the U.S. again, and eat a Jimmy Johns sandwich. But I knew I wouldn’t be returning home the same person. I was a gringa whose experiences demonstrated that travel brings more than knowledge about other cultures and history. It brings self-awareness, shrinks your world, and broadens your perspective. Travel caused me to question what I value in life. Travel has taught me to appreciate the small things like finding an English speaker when the waiter is explaining the menu way too quickly to understand, the taste of a really good fresh batch of guacamole, and that confusing mixture of homesickness and sadness because you know a little piece of your heart isn’t coming home with you. My experiences in Mexico reminded me that though I am a gringa, I’m a very small part of a big and beautiful world.