Given the U.S. media’s relentless fixation on cartel violence and desperate Latinos seeking a better life north of the border, most Americans have no idea how much wealth exists in Mexico today. 

As a foreigner living in Jalisco for the past four years, I’ve been privy to the lifestyles of Mexico’s super-rich, simply because I love to play tennis.  

Below, I share what it’s like inside the heavily gated walls of two exclusive country clubs in Guadalajara. And I’d like to state up front that my intention isn’t to validate how these locals live, but to give our readers a more accurate portrait of modern Mexico.

How a gringa like me gained access to Guadalajara’s top private clubs

I’ve been playing competitive tennis since I was 13. Throughout my life, this sport has offered me a way to stay fit doing something I love, with the added benefit of finding a social circle in every new city I’ve moved to. 

Back in the U.S., I never needed to join a hoity-toity club to play tennis. But in Mexico, public tennis courts are practically non-existent, so joining a club is essential if you want to play regularly. 

In 2023, my husband and I joined Club de la Colina, and I began playing in the city’s women’s leagues. With matches scheduled at different private clubs all over Guadalajara, I gained access to a world rarely seen or spoken about.  

Guadalajara Country Club: Where the city’s old money comes to play

The grande dame of private sports clubs — the Guadalajara Country Club — was established in 1909. These days, GCC offers an oasis of calm amid the chaotic urban sprawl of Guadalajara, at least for the lucky few able to get inside.

To locals, GCC is known as the place where the city’s old money comes to exercise, socialize and relax. 

Like a glass of Champagne, I’ve found GCC members to be effortlessly classy. These aren’t Mexico’s strivers or go-getters. Having already reached the pinnacle of Mexican society, they project a breezy self-confidence that comes only from living without a care in the world.

As for the rest of us, there are only two ways to visit GCC — being invited by a current member or participating in one of the club’s events. Failing that, you will hit a proverbial brick wall attempting to enter. 

The facilities

A few springs ago, I was assigned to play at GCC for a weekly doubles league. At a time of day when most city residents were headed to work, I’d stroll past the club’s equestrian ring on my way to the courts. Most mornings, there would be a handful of riders gliding effortlessly around the ring on sleek, chestnut thoroughbreds, surrounded by blooming Jacarandas. 

The club’s red clay courts are always in pristine condition. After each use, they’re swept by a ball kid and watered by maintenance staff, even in the dry season. For a gringo used to having no assistance whatsoever on a tennis court, even in college competition, this was an adjustment.

Adjacent to GCC’s courts is an Olympic-size swimming pool surrounded by a lush green lawn. It sat empty most mornings. Beyond these installations is an 18-hole golf course that has hosted an LPGA event and a soccer pitch. 

The GCC is so breathtaking, I started having crazy thoughts. Could I become a member of such an enchanting place? 

Becoming a member

One day, I found the courage to ask my friend Daniela, who plays at La Colina. Responding with a wry smile, she said: “Well, you can get in if your grandfather’s grandfather was a member.” 

While she seemed to fit the profile, having been educated at a U.S. boarding school, her joke made clear that not even she could get in. As a native of Tamaulipas, she lacked the proper lineage.

As if to reinforce the point, GCC hosts an annual tennis tournament with an entrance fee three times higher than similar events around town. In the fine print, it warned that spectators would be charged the equivalent of US $150 each if they accompanied a non-member participant. Translation: Don’t bother bringing your family to gawk at our posh club, because we don’t want them here.

Fortunately, Guadalajara has other clubs where no illustrious lineage is needed to get in.

Club Atlas Colomos: Where Guadalajara’s “new money” hangs out

I’ve been playing most of my matches lately at Club Atlas Colomos since quitting La Colina due to crazy traffic congestion in that part of town. Affiliated with the professional Atlas Futbol Club, the social/recreational club Atlas Colomos opened in 1916. Unlike the Guadalajara Country Club, Atlas attracts a more “international” clientele. Since joining two years ago, I’ve met two other Americans and a few Europeans.

The Atlas brand couldn’t be more different from GCC. It’s where Guadalajara’s pampered and relatively “new money” come to exercise, socialize and dine, with others just like them. Though Atlas admits foreigners, it still takes Herculean effort to get in. During the application process, we were asked to submit bank statements, credit reports, medical histories, birth certificates, a marriage certificate, family photos, RFC numbers, criminal background checks, recommendations and more.

We had three rounds of in-person interviews, first with the club’s general manager, then with a private investigator, and finally, with a longtime member over breakfast. At times, their questions were uncomfortably personal. My favorite: Do you have any tattoos? 

The price to join

Reflecting Jalisco’s conservative culture, memberships are granted only to families, never to individuals. Officially, they say it’s because they’re a “family” club. The unofficial reason I’ve been told (hilariously) is that they wish to reduce the risk of infidelity. Once admitted, the monthly fees at Atlas Colomos are roughly 13,000 pesos per month (about US $780), with a separate annual assessment for special projects. Last year’s was 60,000 pesos.

Why does it cost so much? 

Apart from the desire to maintain exclusivity, serious money is needed to fund improvements to the club’s facilities and pay wages to the massive number of employees that keeps the place running. This includes security guards, groundskeepers, gardeners, tennis pros, personal trainers, cleaning staff, locker room attendants, cooks, waiters, cashiers, event planners and, of course, the management. 

Who joins these clubs?

Guadalajara’s elite country club members are businessmen, diplomats, doctors, lawyers, and plenty of women and children with inherited wealth. Plus, the occasional foreigner like me. Many hold credentials from prestigious universities abroad. A decent number speak foreign languages, including English, French and German. 

The ladies I play tennis with are almost universally thin, fashionable and health-conscious. Most do not work. These “women of leisure” (WOL), as I like to call them, fill their days with sports, appointments with their masseuses, Botox treatments, shopping in Andares, long lunches and attending their children’s activities. Some have a social conscience and oversee charitable projects.

Even though WOLs spend a ton of time outside under Guadalajara’s relentless sun, they’re rarely tan. This is because upper-class Mexican women go to extreme lengths to protect their fair skin, as it’s a sign of socioeconomic status. 

Their typical tennis “uniform” consists of long sleeves, a visor, sunglasses, a tennis skirt and a thick slab of sunscreen. Some go even further — wearing face masks when playing. I have no idea how they can breathe. 

Some WOLs chose not to have children; they dote on their pets instead. In Mexico’s ultra family-oriented culture, it feels like a radical act. 

Life in an upper-class bubble 

The wealthy Mexicans who populate these clubs have effectively walled themselves off from the rest of Mexican society. 

They shuttle between their exclusive clubs, gated neighborhoods, private schools and private events, in the privacy of their luxury cars. A French woman I play tennis with, who’s married to a Mexican diplomat, describes it as living inside “a gilded cage.”

The obvious takeaway is that Mexico’s most privileged citizens don’t feel safe among the masses. It’s the product of a deeply unequal society, where the wealthiest 1% controls approximately 40% of the assets. 

As bad as that sounds, inequality in Mexico has declined over the past decade.

MND Writer Dawn Stoner is reporting from Guadalajara.