Playa del Carmen is a town on the beach with around a 100,000 people on the west end of the Caribbean Sea on the north American mainland. It is around 60 km south of the more famous Cancun. While doing the CELTA course in Playa for a month, I ran into a number of people. With most of them I had one time exchanges, with others like the students in the English class I was teaching, there was time to interact after the classes.
A lot of people were interested in where I was from. Sometimes for fun, I would ask them to guess. I would be thrilled if they mentioned Argentina or Chile. Back in Guatemala, a couple of people even guessed that I was from Mexico. In Guatemala, in San Pedro, there was a vendor on the street who used to sell blankets on the tourist path on the way to school. Sonya and I used to pass by him, and we never bought anything from him. He had a perfect North American accent, and would shout out, "Come on my friend, do you want to buy some blankets?". I was jealous of his loud booming voice and his accent - he sounded exactly like an educated US American. One day after many weeks, on the way back from class, he asked me in the same accent, "Where are you from my friend?". Instead of walking by, I stopped, turned towards him and replied "Soy de la India". He got up, leaving his bundle of blankets on the street. He turned and stood next to me side by side. He put his bare left arm next to my elbow and extended it parallel to the ground. In a flash he used his right arm to lay my right arm next to his- elbow to the wrist- with our skins touching; I used to wear a black sweater to class, but on the way back when it was warmer, I would wrap the sweater around my waist and walk home in a t-shirt. He paused for a bit, and examined the evidence carefully with his deep-set eyes. He tilted his head towards me, and said, "We are the same color". I peered at him through my glasses, and raised my eyebrows, bobbed my head up and down, and said," Si, amigo". "We are brothers", he said with a deep conviction.
This business of comparing the skin colour by placing one's elbow next to mine happened at a couple of other places in Guatemala and Mexico. One on the island of Cozumel off the island of Cozumel, we were trying to rent a scooter for the day.We had met the garrulous agent at the dock on the way out from the ferry. The agent was leading us to the rental office, it was half a block away from the main road along the beach. Halfway, up the block he stopped next me, and cocked his head, and asked me,"De donde eres?". "Soy de la India". In a flash, his left arm was placed next to mine, elbow to wrist, while his right hand maneuvered my right arm to lie side by side to his. "El color es mismo. Es de cafe". He was done with his scientific analysis, and moved on to talk about where to refill the gas when returning the scooter.
At another time, we were walking on the beach as usual in the morning in Playa. One of the resorts we passed by, had this friendly guy in his late thirties, who used to greet every jogger, snorkeller, dog-walker and biped, "Buenos Dias". This was uncommon in Mexico- where there were so many people on the street. We had said, "Buenos Dias", to him a couple of times, and one day, we chatted for a long time. His job was to ensure that people who were not guests did not sit on the beach chairs of the "hospedaje". His Spanish was easy to follow, and we had an interesting discussion with him about the beach, religion and humanity. He mentioned how the beach in all of Mexico was open to the public. The hotels obtained special permissions from the local authorities, and could set up the beach chairs a certain distance away from the surf. The hotels would also call the local police if there were fishing boats who were too close to the coast in areas reserved for tourists/swimmers. The police would levy a fine on the boat owner. He seemed to know a lot about India, and asked me a questions about idol worship, and why I thought people did it. He said that he knew that all humans originate from the same place in Africa, but have different skin colours, "por el clima" - because of the climate, nothing more. He pointed to his skin and mine, and said that we had the same skin colour because we are from countries close to the equator. It was a great conversation, and after about 45 minutes, we bid good-bye to each other. We were in Playa for only a week after that, and never met him again. Quisas, encontremos una vez mas.
Another interesting person we met on the main tourist street of Playa, La Quinta Avenida, was a person who was dressed in white next to a tourist booth. After two minutes of trying to sell us a destination to Chichen Itza for free, the scheme according to him was that somehow the government was trying to promote tourism- and he would get paid if he got a certain number of visitors to visit the monument, he was interested in knowing where we were from. India and the USA we told. He was a sharp and intelligent guy, and quite the talker- all we could do was listen to him. He told us about he was finding it hard to make payments to support his ex-wife and child, launched a tirade against the conservatives in the USA, informed us that while Marx had some good ideas, he was a but foolish in some areas and then told us how he had nearly sparked a fight among Indians in Canada. Apparently, he was working as a boss in some warehouse or restaurant in Canada, and one day he had asked his fellow workers, ("Punjabis, and others from North India, and a few from Pakistan"- which part of India made the best curry, and how does one make it. He had been working for weeks with them, and everybody used to work quietly, but that day, one guy mentioned how his town was "world-famous for its chole"; someone countered that with a recipe from his town, and before you knew it, people stopped work, and started arguing with each other. He said that he realized in hindsight that it was a dumb question to ask. He had somehow managed to calm the situation, and learnt a lesson for life. Anyway, life in Canada was behind him, and his parting comments were, "here he was working in the tourism industry like everyone else in Playa"
It is interesting how many of the Mexicans we met had been to many cities in the US. When we mentioned we were from Oregon, they knew where that was, and would mention places they had worked in or visited in the USA.
A lot of people were interested in where I was from. Sometimes for fun, I would ask them to guess. I would be thrilled if they mentioned Argentina or Chile. Back in Guatemala, a couple of people even guessed that I was from Mexico. In Guatemala, in San Pedro, there was a vendor on the street who used to sell blankets on the tourist path on the way to school. Sonya and I used to pass by him, and we never bought anything from him. He had a perfect North American accent, and would shout out, "Come on my friend, do you want to buy some blankets?". I was jealous of his loud booming voice and his accent - he sounded exactly like an educated US American. One day after many weeks, on the way back from class, he asked me in the same accent, "Where are you from my friend?". Instead of walking by, I stopped, turned towards him and replied "Soy de la India". He got up, leaving his bundle of blankets on the street. He turned and stood next to me side by side. He put his bare left arm next to my elbow and extended it parallel to the ground. In a flash he used his right arm to lay my right arm next to his- elbow to the wrist- with our skins touching; I used to wear a black sweater to class, but on the way back when it was warmer, I would wrap the sweater around my waist and walk home in a t-shirt. He paused for a bit, and examined the evidence carefully with his deep-set eyes. He tilted his head towards me, and said, "We are the same color". I peered at him through my glasses, and raised my eyebrows, bobbed my head up and down, and said," Si, amigo". "We are brothers", he said with a deep conviction.
This business of comparing the skin colour by placing one's elbow next to mine happened at a couple of other places in Guatemala and Mexico. One on the island of Cozumel off the island of Cozumel, we were trying to rent a scooter for the day.We had met the garrulous agent at the dock on the way out from the ferry. The agent was leading us to the rental office, it was half a block away from the main road along the beach. Halfway, up the block he stopped next me, and cocked his head, and asked me,"De donde eres?". "Soy de la India". In a flash, his left arm was placed next to mine, elbow to wrist, while his right hand maneuvered my right arm to lie side by side to his. "El color es mismo. Es de cafe". He was done with his scientific analysis, and moved on to talk about where to refill the gas when returning the scooter.
At another time, we were walking on the beach as usual in the morning in Playa. One of the resorts we passed by, had this friendly guy in his late thirties, who used to greet every jogger, snorkeller, dog-walker and biped, "Buenos Dias". This was uncommon in Mexico- where there were so many people on the street. We had said, "Buenos Dias", to him a couple of times, and one day, we chatted for a long time. His job was to ensure that people who were not guests did not sit on the beach chairs of the "hospedaje". His Spanish was easy to follow, and we had an interesting discussion with him about the beach, religion and humanity. He mentioned how the beach in all of Mexico was open to the public. The hotels obtained special permissions from the local authorities, and could set up the beach chairs a certain distance away from the surf. The hotels would also call the local police if there were fishing boats who were too close to the coast in areas reserved for tourists/swimmers. The police would levy a fine on the boat owner. He seemed to know a lot about India, and asked me a questions about idol worship, and why I thought people did it. He said that he knew that all humans originate from the same place in Africa, but have different skin colours, "por el clima" - because of the climate, nothing more. He pointed to his skin and mine, and said that we had the same skin colour because we are from countries close to the equator. It was a great conversation, and after about 45 minutes, we bid good-bye to each other. We were in Playa for only a week after that, and never met him again. Quisas, encontremos una vez mas.
Another interesting person we met on the main tourist street of Playa, La Quinta Avenida, was a person who was dressed in white next to a tourist booth. After two minutes of trying to sell us a destination to Chichen Itza for free, the scheme according to him was that somehow the government was trying to promote tourism- and he would get paid if he got a certain number of visitors to visit the monument, he was interested in knowing where we were from. India and the USA we told. He was a sharp and intelligent guy, and quite the talker- all we could do was listen to him. He told us about he was finding it hard to make payments to support his ex-wife and child, launched a tirade against the conservatives in the USA, informed us that while Marx had some good ideas, he was a but foolish in some areas and then told us how he had nearly sparked a fight among Indians in Canada. Apparently, he was working as a boss in some warehouse or restaurant in Canada, and one day he had asked his fellow workers, ("Punjabis, and others from North India, and a few from Pakistan"- which part of India made the best curry, and how does one make it. He had been working for weeks with them, and everybody used to work quietly, but that day, one guy mentioned how his town was "world-famous for its chole"; someone countered that with a recipe from his town, and before you knew it, people stopped work, and started arguing with each other. He said that he realized in hindsight that it was a dumb question to ask. He had somehow managed to calm the situation, and learnt a lesson for life. Anyway, life in Canada was behind him, and his parting comments were, "here he was working in the tourism industry like everyone else in Playa"
It is interesting how many of the Mexicans we met had been to many cities in the US. When we mentioned we were from Oregon, they knew where that was, and would mention places they had worked in or visited in the USA.
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