get a peek at everyone’s favorite Mexican Mascota, Droopy, and why we think Enough is Enough
Bastante is a Spanish word, which translates, literally, enough. It is my favorite word in Spanish, having rediscovered it while living in Mexico. It is fun to say, and to hear. By itself, it’s a great word. Nice consonant staccato — bas-tant-ay — upbeat energy dancing on your tongue and ear. But, together with others in a sentence, the elegance of the word is revealed. “Hay bastante sitio para todos” means “There is enough room for everyone.” Get it? Awesome word, right?
People choose to ex-patriate to Mexico for many reasons, most finding something favorable in Mexico versus where they come from. We come from the full spectrum of past lives and places, each with unique motivations that brought us here. If you ask an ex-pat, or consult a travel blog, terrific weather and low cost of living usually get top billing. Trust me, it’s so much more.
Because Mexico utterly relies on tourism, English is spoken everywhere, and the economy is greased by a hospitable (if not always efficient) attitude. But once we’ve acclimatized, adjusted to a new standard of living, and armed with some polite local phrases, the reasons we stay in Mexico are very different. It’s “bastante” that keeps us in Mexico.
For 3000 years before the Europeans arrived, the native people of Mexico flourished. The Olmecs, Aztecs, Mayas, and other great peoples built thriving civilizations. These cultures were comparatively sophisticated, giving us great pyramids, organized cities, and robust infrastructure. During the 300-year span between 16th-19th century AD, Spaniards invaded and ruled the region, declaring Mexico “New Spain”. Then, in 1821, Mexico gained their independence and has stood alone as a nation since. The common threads between the ancient cultures and the Mexico of today have endured. Deep faith, an abiding sense of family, a can-do attitude has all persisted through the millennia (as, ahem, has much of the ancient infrastructure) defining the Mexican people. Instead of Spanish conquerors, modern Mexico is ‘occupied’ by Tourists. And like the ancient peoples, I’m pretty sure they’re just waiting for us to leave. In any case, they aren’t making many visible changes.
The freak shock of COVID – and our responses to it –spread a pervasive, isolating blanket of scarcity — in almost every corner of the world. Elsewhere, resources seemed to shrink overnight – food, money, medicine, (toilet paper, for crissakes), patience, compassion, empathy — Our friends and families in America, Canada, Europe, the UK, Australia…all showed signs of lack and loss – lost jobs/businesses, loved ones, marriages, homes, and in some cases, lives. A tightly woven blanket was unwinding, fraying at the edges and at the pressure points…the facts of their lives, the essence of their identity shifting, fading, and disappearing. Friends and families separated, physically, and emotionally. But, not in Mexico.
To really experience bastante in Mexico, you have to be an insider. No Spring-Break-on-Cabo or family vacation in Cancun can deliver it. Mexico isn’t about calling the front desk for clean towels, a bucket of ice, or a zipline tour. You need the perspective that comes from being grateful for what you once considered the basics of your life.
Darren used to say that while living on the ranch in Mayto, any day that you had internet OR water OR electricity was a good day; it’s just piggy to expect all three at once. You need to learn, first hand, that when a Mexican repairman looks you in the eye and says, earnestly, “Martes, Señorita, Martes,” that he doesn’t necessarily mean this Tuesday, or next…or any particular day at all. Other than, not, alas, this day. He isn’t peddling false hope — that your car, or refrigerator or air conditioning will be fixed – he is asking you to share his faith that someday all will be well. He is asking you to re-examine your priorities, possessions, values. And the gleam in his eye tells you that, while perhaps not now, on some unspecified someday, he will arrive with the part, or his cousin, or a new hopeful excuse about some new future Tuesday. And that life will go on until then, and in all likelihood, you will discover inventive ways to get around, keep food fresh, and keep cool, and laugh about it. If it’s really going to take a while, he’ll bring the Coronas to pass the time. Darren likes to say, when the six pack shows up instead of the promised pump or part, you know you’re in trouble.
Many of us came to Mexico already broken in some way. We didn’t need a pandemic, or lock downs, or global economic shifts to fuel our escapism. But what we find is a people who have known for thousands of years that whatever This is, it will surely pass. People who, despite their outward station in life, know there is enough space, food, joy and love for all of us. Bastante. They treat us like the mostly benevolent occupiers we are; bemused by the things that fuss us, patiently waiting for us to embrace their notion of plenty
Ah, but the dogs of Mexico! They really know the meaning of the word. Generally, there are two types of dogs in Mexico:
Ex-pat dogs: The ones we bring in are often just like the vacationers at, say, the Westin. Once they’re through the enormous rigamarole of entering the country – vaccines, travel kennels, gruff border officials ‘negotiating’ with sweaty, weary travelers—sadly, their lives aren’t much different from the ones they left behind. They cling to their sunburned owners, every sight, sound and smell alarming and activating. A twice daily clash-of-the-senses stroll, bookending hours of air-conditioned pampering on furniture that often looks a lot like what they’d left behind, dressed in the same outfits and collars that form the silly sense of fashion superiority they enjoyed at home.
But STRAY Mexican dogs are a whole different breed of survivalists. Scrappy, scruffy, hair matted with the salt and sand…and always hungry. Hungry for food, for company, for love. When a Mexican street dog chooses you, it’s a moment to really puff out your chest with pride – because, strays have choices. Their options range from running up and down the endless beach, terrorizing expat dogs (often receiving a treat or a gentle greeting from their owners), ducking in and out of alleys teeming with “like new” garbage treasures, napping in the breeze under the shade of a palm. With all that paradise to consider, when a Mexican dog chooses you, follows you home, as Droopy chose Darren, and Amanda, it’s for keeps.
A natural charmer, Droopy had choices. And, of course, it should be pointed out that he wasn’t exactly a stray in search of a warm place to sleep. Droopy already had a home with the woman who ran the local beach bar, but he was just bonkers for Darren on sight. After many days of following him home to the ranch, and being dutifully returned to his rightful owner, she declared that Droopy had chosen him. It became obvious to everyone that Droopy, weighing all of his options, found his sense of bastante, in Darren.
Droopy commands the presence of a much, much larger dog, trapped in the body of a chihuahua. I remember the first time I met him, when Darren took us up into the desert villages outside San Miguel de Allende on the quad. He instantly sized me up as a potential threat to Darren’s attentions, wedging himself between us on the bike, pressing his miniscule bum as hard as possible into my belly, no doubt in hopes of pushing me off on a tight corner. Insanely clever, Droopy is used to claiming the center of attention wherever they would go. And if he leans in for a pat or a scratch, it might be mistaken for genuine affection, but generally, if Darren’s in the vicinity, Droopy only has eyes for him.
Amusingly, Darren’s previous taste ran to the big breeds…Great Danes, mastiffs, and the like; their clumsy, hulking masses returning his affections in equal measure. At just under 3 kilos, cunning little Droopy, sleeping with one eye or ear trained on Darren at all times, turned out to be plenty of love.
As humans, we yearn and aspire and covet. Whatever we have, there always seems to be a desire for a little more. But, in Mexico, if we are open to it, we begin to learn that what we have right in front of us is more than sufficient, plenty, a little to share. It’s a pretty terrific outlook; one simple word that means, simply, enough. Bastante
Ironically, Darren and I were both beginning to experience a different play on the word by then. The appeal of Mexico, after the years in a surreal pandemic snow globe, some staggering personal losses, and a lot of changes, was wearing a bit thin. The thing about Mexico is, when the tattered edges start to obscure your view — and there is always a way to see the glass half empty (of raicilla, lol) it’s probably time to get out of paradise for a bit. I’m kind of adamant about how Mexico saved my life, so I was anxious to protect its reputation before the tortilla went stale. The United States is my birthplace, but Mexico is where I found my soul. So, for entirely different reasons, we decided to wander for a bit. Hasta la vista, Mexico, bastante. Enough, for now.