Any foreigners who’ve been in Mexico for more than two minutes know this truth: expat relationships are complicated.
I read with interest Louisa Rogers’ article on expat relationships a couple of weeks ago, and found myself nodding along to much of it. Feeling threatened by large numbers of new foreigners moving to my area? Check! Hyper awareness of my ratio of Mexican-to-foreign born friends? Check! Complaining about “those other gringos” who are messing up some designated “elsewhere”? Oh my goodness, please don’t make me look in the mirror.
My policy these days is to keep a very light grip on everything from my friendships to my own ideological musings. I pre-like everyone now, purposefully rather than by default. I haven’t met you, but I am sure you are a friend, until and unless you prove otherwise.
And I would really appreciate it if you wouldn’t prove otherwise.
But this attitude was hard-won, not discovered in a sudden stroke of coolness. It’s been over 20 years — uh-oh, am I bragging? — and it’s taken a long time to make peace with my identity both as an individual and as part of the greater foreigner-in-Mexico population. I don’t know if it’s my time here or just my age. Maybe it was a really good mushroom trip. But I just refuse to get worked up: if you want to be friends, we’re friends. I’ll try to help you if you need help. If you don’t like me, then, oh well: I guess we’re not friends.
The comment section of my most recent humor piece made the “not friends” column abundantly clear; self-sorting, even.
And it got me thinking: is online communication among us all helping or hurting? After all, no one would be as nasty to people’s faces as we might be online. Online, we’re anonymous. Online, we could be anyone. Online, we can’t get punched in the face for being rude as hell.
Perhaps it’s a reflection as well of the general polarity we find in the United States. I’m certainly not immune from self-sorting, of course: finding common ground with friends who are openly enthusiastic about a felon president is not always easy. In any case, everyone has strong opinions either way.
Yes, we foreigners are a varied bunch, each of us a unique… snowflake. Complicating matters is the fact that the average U.S. or Canadian citizen is not someone who would voluntarily move to Mexico. Right off the bat, then, you’re dealing with someone whose type you might not be too familiar with.
Overall the most even-keeled people I’ve met have been retirees, though this isn’t a hard and fast rule. You can be a weirdo at any age!
People closer to my own age are a bit of a mixed bag, though, and I’ve had a few relationships with other paisanos end abruptly at this point. This has only happened once with a Mexican friend, a neighbor who blocked me after I friended her husband, who I thought was also my friend, on Facebook. Given the demographics, I’d say the number of times it’s happened with those from my own culture makes it conspicuously likely.
The first cut off was by a couple from the U.S. who wanted help translating and getting paperwork done upon arrival. We’d had some great conversations online beforehand, but in real life, our chemistry was pretty tense and weird. No matter; they were paying me for my help, and I was going to do whatever I could to make it worth it. Mostly, it was fine.
But then there was a misunderstanding about what exactly was being charged, and I suddenly found myself buried under some very intense, urgent messages. I gifted them some extra live interpretation time as a sign of goodwill and thought we were fine. Later, though, when I wanted to send a message to see how their house hunting had gone, I realized I’d been blocked on Whatsapp and Facebook.
Since then, I’ve found I’m not the only person to have received that treatment. A clear picture of kookiness has emerged, so I guess it’s not just me. The experience did convince me, however, that I definitely did not want to make a career of helping people settle down here.
Another cut-off came from someone who’d been a friend and mentor to me for over 20 years. That one was completely unexpected, and it hurt. I’d excused myself from what I saw as a minor favor, an action which my friend apparently, interpreted as a sign of deep disrespect. I was oblivious that he was upset with me, and only learned that he was months later from another friend. By the time I wrote him to apologize, that was it. I never heard from him again.
The last incident was quite recent, with a friend of three years. I thought we were really close, but when I unwisely hounded her about getting her dog fixed so it wouldn’t get all the dogs in the neighborhood pregnant, that was it, too. I was asked to leave her house immediately, even though home was over three hours away.
What is with these gringos and abruptly cutting people off? Mexicans may have a reputation for being dramatic, but my relationships with them have gone through rocky patches and come out just fine. Only my own paisanos have been so mad that they banished me from their lives. Is it something about North Americans, or is it just something about North Americans who live in Mexico? I will probably never know.
But I have not sworn off other U.S. Americans. Currently, we have a small breakfast group of foreigners in Xalapa that meets once a month. We share a nice meal and chat. We wouldn’t all necessarily be best friends were we in the U.S.
But this is different. When you’re in a foreign country without family, it’s nice to know people who know your culture and language on a native level. Real friendships, I still believe and have proven, are possible.
But for people who I know will definitely still be my friend even if I berate them about their unsterilized pets, I’m sticking with Mexicans.
Sarah DeVries is a writer and translator based in Xalapa, Veracruz. She can be reached through her website, https://sarahedevries.substack.com/
