Why I’m moving to Mérida: long version

It’s clearly cheaper for me to make Mérida, Mexico, my home base. But what about the quality of life? Do I like it? Would you like it?

Major caveat: I’ve been in Mérida for six months total, so I’m no expert. Of course, that doesn’t keep me from jumping to conclusions.

Some things I like

I’m more mellow in Mérida. Here’s why.

More caring. People here seem more focused on engaging with and supporting others, at least when they’re not driving. I hear many more terms of respect, I see more young people spending time with and helping older people, public events are full of statements of appreciation for the performers and individuals in the audience, and even purely transactional conversations with strangers start with a mutual “buenos días” instead of going straight to “I need….” New acquaintances show affection much more quickly than in the US. And in situations in which petty competition can emerge in the north, such as finding space on a crowded dance floor, people here seem more likely to just smile and accommodate each other. It’s a subtle cultural difference, but it’s the biggest one for me, and it’s addictive.

More equanimity. With the exception of wealthy Mexicans, I haven’t seen the “I must have it exactly my way!” behavior that bugs me in the States. I also haven’t seen locals become instantly offended or take an impersonal situation personally.

More modest standard of living. My minimalist-Bohemian heart is delighted by all the options for living simply.

Fewer rules. Cross the street wherever; jerry-rig a solution to your electrical problem; don’t put a railing on the stairs if you don’t want one. If you step in a hole in the sidewalk and fall on your face, it’s your fault for not looking where you were going. This results in people who don’t whine very much. Of course, it can also result in having a neighbor who creates a toxic waste dump in his back yard.

Live and let live, mostly. In conversations with locals, including some intense political discussions, I’ve rarely heard them harshly judge other peoples’ choices or lifestyles. I’ve also seen gay Mexican couples snuggling in public who didn’t draw a second glance. At the same time, it’s clear that skin color matters in this society, and the flip side of “live and let live” is a tolerance for cheating and corruption.

Lots of cultural events. Dance to live music, watch dance and music performances, attend plays, go to the symphony, attend lectures, almost all of it for free. I dance three times a week, and if I went to clubs I’d dance even more. I’m also a big fan of La 68, an open-air cinema that shows thought-provoking documentaries.

I can live without a car. The city bus system isn’t perfect or luxurious, but I rarely have to wait more than 5 minutes for a bus that’s going where I need to go. I sometimes use a cab if I buy a lot of groceries or it’s raining. The traffic downtown discourages biking, but in my new quieter neighborhood, I’ll be able to ride without stress.

More variety. Beautifully restored colonial houses stand next to abandoned, crumbling masonry shells. One family on my winter street had a magazine-perfect home with a fancy tile roof, while another had a simple place with a tin roof occasionally augmented with tarps. Your view during a walk is never boring or predictable unless you go out to the new developments.

College students act like adults. There are a lot of universities here, but none of the loud, drunken groups of students that are a staple in my US town.

More security. Yes, I’m claiming that I feel safer in a Mexican city of nearly 1 million people than I do in many places I’ve been in the US. Yucatán supposedly has a murder rate similar to Wyoming’s. I walk around downtown at night, alone, with no issues. As I walk, I pass the wide-open doors of people’s houses. They’re lingering over dinner or watching TV, their front door open to the world.

It’s certainly possible that I’ll be affected by some misadventure. But it looks like my daily experience would continue to be free of neighbors shooting off guns, loudly drunk students, aggressive panhandlers, and random strangers who sabotage my car or yell obscenities.

 
Some things I don’t like

Lack of street trees. Large parts of Mérida, especially the downtown, have few or no trees in public areas, except in occasional parks. There are greener areas, however. I chose my new non-centro neighborhood in part for its shaded boulevards.

Litter. Junk food bags, soda bottles, scraps of paper, and everything else you can imagine are scattered about the sidewalks and blown into little piles against the houses. It’s apparently dropped by just about everyone. A street cleaner (a human being, not a machine) comes down my street regularly, so I guess the litter keeps people employed, sort of.

Decrepitude. Many of the old houses downtown are neglected or abandoned and crumbling slowly into the sidewalks. The sidewalks are broken and uneven in many places, as well as blocked by cables, posts, open gates, and bags of rocks. This adds to the variety and adventure but when I’m tired and hot, it can be disheartening. It’s less of an issue in non-Centro neighborhoods, where you can walk in the street.

Societal and political problems. There’s no shortage of corruption, passivity, waste, and domestic abuse, the gulf between rich and poor is huge, and the current administration’s “war on drugs” isn’t exactly inspiring. I like to think that because I’d be an outsider, I’d be able to practice more detachment than I can manage back in the States, but that could be wishful thinking.

No real Thai or Indian restaurants. Many of the ingredients are available, though.

Slightly isolated geographically. It’s a long bus ride to many other parts of Mexico, but Cuba’s handy.

 
Potentially problematic

These things could either fade happily into the background or get increasingly under my skin.

Heat. I like to think I’d get used to it like this thoughtful Alaskan, but I’m not sure. My one-month stay in the summer wasn’t long enough to gauge how I’d do.

Noise. Because I came here expecting loud radios, firecrackers, honking horns, etc., the noise hasn’t bothered me much, but I could see getting cranky at some point. It helps that I like most of the music that’s being blared.

Face-saving. If you ask a local a question, you’ll get a helpful answer. Unfortunately, it might not be the correct answer. They were just trying to please you and tell you something, anything. If you’re looking for factual information, such as where to catch a particular bus, you need to ask multiple people. View it as a survey. If someone has promised you something, such as, “Your laundry will be available at 6:30,” don’t stake anything important on it.

Traffic. It’s loud and it pollutes, and people speed. It seems to be mostly an issue in the centro histórico. I’ve enjoyed walks in quieter residential areas outside of downtown, and the traffic is one reason I’m moving out of downtown.

 
Social life and language

My spoken Spanish is imperfect, but I can go to plays, read the paper, and talk politics and culture with patient Mexicans. It has been surprisingly easy to make friends, and my goal is to become fluent.

My biggest challenge has been deciding what relationship to have with the English-speaking expat community here. I’m not likely to become deeply involved in their English-only groups, though I do enjoy meeting expats who are working on their Spanish.

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