Tikin Xic

Many years ago, before my arrival to live full time in Mexico, I used to visit Playa 3 or 4 times a year for vacations.  After buying my home here these trips became more important as  it was a time to prepare my humble abode for permanent occupancy.  Even back then in 2010, I realized the importance of getting to know as many people as possible, most notably Locals who would be of assistance in the future.    Who knows better how to get things done than the people who actually live here. After trying a number of Boutique Hotels, I finally settled on one particular spot.  Hotel Lunata on the 5^th.  Fabi, the Manager and I became good friends.  She would later become even more important after buying my house.  I had few personal references here in Mexico and she was instrumental in helping me get my Utilities as well as opening my first bank account.  After the closing, I confided in her that I needed someone who could get things done for me.  She offered Luis’s services.  Luis just happened to be the night watchman and general handyman of the Hotel.  He came highly recommended and was a great find.  Knowledgeable in electricity, pumps, and plumbing, he was a one-stop shop for anything I needed.  There were many nights that I would go down to the lobby and just chat.  I was new to this part of Mexico, and he was mesmerized by my stories of living in the New York Metro area and in return I was given an insider’s look into Playa life as a local. 

Luis is of Mayan descent.  Small in stature but a heart as big as all Mexico and a smile to match.  Our work relationship turned into a solid friendship. Speaking no English, only Spanish and Yucatecan Maya, it was a great start for me to learn the ropes so to speak.   For those who know me, I like to delve deeper into the culture, the language, and the social norms.  Through Luis, he introduced me to other Locals in other trades.  Downtown, his contacts led me to a place I could park my vehicle safely when not a parking place could be found. He took me to hardware stores, paint stores and other specialty stores for hard to find items and guide me on what was best.  Always taking the time to explain why this part and that part was needed to make everything work.  Having never been exposed to owning a home here and the different needs, Luis was an encyclopedia of information.  When the job required more hands, his friend Malessio would come and assist.  For the most part I could only observe.  Between themselves they spoke only Mayan.   As for the parking, for many months I only knew the name of my parking savior as “Gordo” (Fat).  In many Latin American countries, your apodo (nickname) becomes who you are and the name by which you are called.  Being a little apprehensive about calling someone “Fat”, I learned his given name is Samuel.  Almost 8 years have passed, and Samuel still finds me a spot when his lot is full.  I should also point out that Malessio works for Samuel in his lot washing cars.  When Im in town, I toss Malessio my keys and he works his magic on El Tigre (the nickname of my car).  Luis also worked for Gordo during the day before his night shift.  In case you are wondering, the lot is on Avenue 10 and is called La Cucaracha.  

Luis and his family, live in a small 2 room house on the West Side with their two children.   A small kitchen table for meals, a kitchenette, hammocks serve as the bedroom in the large area, and they are neatly bundled and stored near the ceiling when not in use.  A modest home by most Mexican standards.  His children, Karen the oldest and Ernesto named after his father were no more than 8 and 10 years old when we met.  All the book Spanish I had learned included titles and greetings, but never fully explained the importance and under what conditions they should be used.  The Spanish language is built around formality, politeness, manners, and protocol.  From the day we met, I was recognized as tercer edad (third age) better known as a Senior, and being a Professional back home, I had to get used to the terms Señor and Licenciado.   For me it was difficult to be held in such a high regard, I am really just a simple guy. My name changed from just Jeff to Señor Jeff and ultimately to Don Jeff as I grew older.  As we talked, kids being kids would interrupt a conversation and with manners being so important Mamá would chastise them saying ¡Callase!, ¡Don Jeff está hablando! (Be quiet, Don Jeff is speaking).   The level of respect and manners is incredible.  Today, Karen continues her studies and Ernesto has entered La Prepa, the equivalent of High School studying construction and works side by side with his Father.  For the family religion and work is important to make ends meet, but education is the priority.

Once you become accepted in Local Circles, the learning curve broadens, you get invited to family events like graduations, quinceñeras (sweet 15), holiday meals and so on.  I remember my first event was their daughter’s graduation from La Secundaria which is like our Middle School.  A very proud moment for the family, Karen was chosen to be the bearer of the Bandera Mexicana (Mexican Flag) during the proceedings.  An honor only bestowed to someone of high academic achievement and leadership.  I could not let this event pass without contributing, so I purchased 2 tablet computers for each of the kids to not only broaden their horizons but allow the family to forever capture the moment digitally. In photos.  For the kindness they showed me, I took the entire family to dinner in celebration.  I chose a local restaurant they would be comfortable at, their own turf so to speak.  There was no need to impress and make them feel uncomfortable.  I have had the pleasure of watching Karen and Ernesto grow up and pursue their education and to this day we remain in contact.  On occasion, I will just show up at there house to say hello and my quick visit usually turns into a few hours.  

Over the years, we have shared many meals not only in their home but mine as well.  These events were always great fun.  Traditional Mexican dishes cooked in my home.  My curiosity to learn carried no weight in the kitchen.  I was always ushered out as the kitchen was women’s territory.  One Sunday would be empanadas, the next tacos de chicharron, another time chiles rellenos.  Even the tortillas were made by hand and better than anything you can buy in a store.

One Sunday morning, I received a message of invite to share una cena (a meal) with Luis, his family and what he called his Hermanos de Fé (Brothers in Faith), I had no idea what to expect, no point of reference, no book to consult. I was not even living in Mexico at the time just here for a few days vacation.  Their only vehicle is a moto so I picked them up and way we went in my rented car. We wound our way through parts of Playa I never knew existed, turn left, go straight, go right, another left we finally arrived at a house on the edge of the selva (jungle).  I don’t even remember the name of the Colonia, but the houses were similar to Luis’.  Single room, neat as a pin.  I was so self-conscious after finding out that I was the Guest of Honor, for no other reason than friendship.  Would my Spanish suffice, how do I act?  All these points worried me.  Then came the introductions.  Too many names to remember, no English only Maya and Spanish.  I became a magnet for the children, especially the twin boys of the Owner of the house.  I did not ask their ages, but I think they were no more than 8 or 9 years old.  They became my shadow, shy but inquisitive and yes, they spoke better Spanish than I.  

My first Epiphany, I had to learn at a minimum a few words of Maya, it was intoxicating to be a part. Good afternoon, Ma’alob kiin, thank you, Olo’ob would have to suffice until I learned more. Fast forward a few years later, greetings were easier.  Ma’alob kiin bix’abeel.  Is the greeting I would start with, and Luis would reply ma’alob mix ba kux teech.  (Good afternoon, how are you?  I am good and you?  I can’t even begin to translate the flood of Maya that Luis would return with as it was well over my head and infantile understanding of the language.  This would be a common joke between us going forward after every greeting with my reply in Spanish ¿Como? (What?).

The menu for the day was Pescado.  Fresh from the waters around the island of Holbox.  Pargo, Robalo deep fried and prepared Mayan Style in a dish called Tikin Xic.  If you are not familiar with Holbox, it is an island located about 2 hours or so from Playa del Carmen.  It is a resort island with many small hotels and is a great place to escape the Sargasso when the Playa beaches are inundated.  Other than tourism the islands principal industry is fishing.  The Pargo and Robalo mentioned earlier are Red Snapper and Sea Bass caught fresh that morning, iced, then filleted before cooking.   In typical and traditional fashion, the women went to work preparing the meal.  I asked if there was anything I could do to help.  Oops, that is a no no.  Guests do not do that.   There was masa to be made to turn into freshly made tortillas on a huge comal firmly in place over a bed of hot coals.  Likewise, the fish was cooked over an open fire.  What meal would be complete without home cooked Frijoles negros simmering next to the coals. 

While the women cooked, I was led by my new friends with the twins at my side into the edge of the jungle.  I got a stern warning about the Chechen tree, and a few other items I should stay clear of.  A Tarantula the size of a saucer, a tree with spines that looked like the horns of the devil, a caterpillar (gusano) or slug (baboso) I have no idea which with spines that would have sent me to the hospital with its venom.  A Garden of Hurt to the untrained and a Garden of Eden when you know what to look for.    Many other things caught my eye, a cotton bush (algodón) growing wild at the jungle edge, various forms of Cactus, and a slew of ants and other crawly’s, birds I had never encountered, trees and plants that were not only edible but medicinal as well.

Receiving the shout in Mayan, that dinner was ready, we exited the jungle.  What was once a big open space in front of the casa was replaced by a table that could have handled the Last Supper.  Chairs lined both sides, borrowed from all the neighbors with one chair at the head of the table.  Of course, it was the largest and most ornate of all.  Who could this be for?  I noticed it was the only setting with a glass, and a knife and fork.  Make the honored guest feel at home a gesture to ease my mind I thought.  Embarrassed but smiling, I tried to explain that at this table we were all equal, and special treatment was not required.  Putting the utensils to the side was met with great smiles.  

The meal was excellent.  I noticed at the start of the meal; all eyes were on me.  Would the gringo like it?  With a smile and a universal sign of thumbs up, Luis gave me a smile back and remarked you are one of us now.  Offered seconds, how could I refuse.  There was no alcohol, no cervezas, only coca cola.  I would find out later, that in their Faith, it was frowned upon.   When the Coke was gone, someone disappeared into the selva and returned with a few branches covered in bright green leaves.  They were from the Moringa tree.  Two señoras quietly slipped away, there was the whir of the licuadora (blender) and a pitcher of Agua de moringa appeared and was empty in seconds.  I would love to tell you how it tasted but I was not fast enough to get even a half glass to taste.  Another lesson learned, what you don’t have or can’t afford you make.  You adapt, you use what is available.  

After dinner, another lesson learned, you never leave the table without permission.  As the sun went down another larger fire was lit, the chairs moved to a circle around the fire.  Of course, the big chair went as well, I knew where I was supposed to sit.  This sort of gathering was not meant just for the adults, the children gathered as well .  At first, I had no idea what to expect and the awkward silence disappeared with the first questions.  Not from any adult, but the twin boys who never left my side during the whole afternoon.  What is your favorite food they asked?  Hotdogs! My quick answer was met with a giggle and then the flood gates opened.  Everyone was interested to know about what life is like in the US.  How much did things cost.  The Twins asked the most difficult questions.  I cringed when they asked me if I was rich.  I knew it was coming at some point.  A question asked by a child also deserves an answer no matter how awkward.  Even the adults were surprised by the question and gave a look of dismay towards the boys.  I answered as truthfully as I could in terms the boys would understand.  No, I am not.  I have a house like you, I have a car, I work just like your Mom and Dad, and I have two boys who are a little older than you.  I could feel they wanted a more definitive answer but end of subject.   For each of their questions I countered with one of my own about their lifestyle and living in Mexico.  

We sat for hours and talked.  My head spinning having to speak so much Spanish, but their patience was astounding, when I stumbled on words, help came immediately.  Being the gracious hosts they were, at one point they realized I was tired.   My departure was announced, but in true Mexican tradition, the three goodbyes were in play.  Finally, the obligatory hugs and kiss on the cheek:  Besos and Abrazos.  With a final wave, I took my leave and made my way back to familiar roads. 

In all my travels, and all that I have experienced in life, this particular moment in time will stay with me forever.  It was genuine, it was real, it was a moment that you can only experience from within your soul.  I could not help but think of one aspect of the day, meeting the children and our time together around the fire.  How different and simple their perception of the world is but how similar our lives are. Our worries are the same and we all have hopes and dreams.  The thought drained me emotionally.  I cried on the way home.  Happy tears with a hint of sadness.  Having two sons of my own, if our roles were reversed, would they have the same opportunities we take for granted.   This is a question I always have in the back of my mind that has no answer.  We are products of our environment I tell myself and regardless of where you are from, happiness comes in many forms and is what you make of it.  

The story does not end here.  In the coming months and years, experiences such as this day would continue with old friends and new and will forever be part of my new life in Mexico.