Living Here: Socializing

Juchitán de Zaragoza, Oaxaca -- My Mexican social life has gone through an evolution over the past eight years. When I first came to Mérida, my group of friends consisted mostly of other foreigners. Now, although I have expatriate friends and continue to make new acquaintances among that crowd, mostly I socialize with Mexican people. The reasons are varied. An experience a few months ago prompted me to think more about the subject.

I was invited by my friend Victoria to visit her home pueblo of Juchitán, out near the Pacific coast in southern Oaxaca, not terribly far from the border with Chiapas. It is a tiring, winding five-hour bus ride from the city of Oaxaca through the mountains down to this area, where traditional Zapotec culture and language is still an active influence on daily life. 

I took a cab from the bus terminal to Victoria’s house.

This old house was first inhabited by her great grandmother, and has come down through the matrilineal line of the family ever since. Roots run deep here, and although Victoria lives in Mexico City where she has pursued a career in music and acting, she identifies herself first and foremost with this place and as a Zapotec woman.



Not long after I arrived, we rode with Victoria’s nephew and his family out to visit relatives who live a little outside of the town. When we got inside the wall that surrounds the large yard, a dog barked once or twice in welcome, and I could hear the sounds of children playing. We were led to a kitchen-dining area that adjoined a roofed patio.



This was an extended-family gathering of maybe 25 people, consisting of mature brothers and sisters, some of their children, grandchildren, and assorted aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

 The eldest men and some of the women were seated around a long table in the large kitchen. I was provided a chair amidst this group.

The table was scattered with heaping platters of seafood, bottles of beer, and an open bottle of mezcal. Over the next several hours, my plate was never empty for more than a moment before another course was served. The fish soup was followed by caviar and ceviche, shrimp, clams, conch, fish cakes, smoked filets and a variety of salsas and other dishes. My beer was never allowed to warm or become empty, nor was my double-shot mezcal glass. People drank, slowly, but no one appeared drunk or became loud.

I noticed the background sounds of talk and laughter. There was no knot of kids sequestered in a room staring like zombies at a big flat screen, X-Box or computer. The children were all playing together outside. No one was checking their cell phone or sending text messages. The music we had came from one of the older uncles who crooned and played the guitar. At times the others stopped conversing to listen or join in the singing, which was sometimes in the Zapotec dialect. Lots of applause and appreciative cheers followed favorite songs.

For cool-blooded, less-demonstrative northerners who have not pariticpated in these kinds of gatherings, they may present a challenge to notions about personal space. There is plenty of hugging, kissing and touching going on. There are lots of people around, and they like to be close together. And being together was the entire purpose of this afternoon. There was nothing to get in the way of that goal.

I have gravitated increasingly toward this type of socializing as I live longer in Mexico and meet more people. I think in part that is because the Mexican parties are gatherings of family and old friends, and most of the foreigner parties are given by people who do not have family or life-long friends around. For this reason and, I suppose for reasons of culture, the foreigner parties are of a different sort.

At "mix and mingle" foreigner parties I occasionally attend in Mexico, I sometimes feel like the goal is to talk to an individual for a couple of minutes, make a good impression, and then continue to "circulate" in order to chit-chat with everyone else before the evening is over. It seems as if my job is to do a little personal PR presentation to each one I meet. In this environment, only superficial interactions are possible. My wallflower tendencies and dislike of small talk have always inhibited me at these types of social events.

In comparison, the Mexican gatherings are leisurely and more relaxed. People don't arrive punctually, but once they've settled in they tend to hang out for a long time. The importance of family and long-term relationships is obvious in the affectionate way people interact. There is a group spirit. Hospitality and manners are integral and highly-refined arts. And often, cultural roots and history are living participants in the here and now.

These are people who know who they are. Here you encounter them among the folks who know them best. Falseness and superficiality are just about impossible.

In these gatherings, there is plenty of time for an in-depth conversation or to listen in on an intricate discussion between others. People may sing or quote snatches of poetry. There is time to not talk and simply enjoy moments, savor the good food, listen to the words of a song, or to soak up the friendliness. There is time to sit in the garden and watch the children play.

On this particular occasion, in a situation where I was a stranger, I was treated like a long-lost relative. I was told with complete sincerity that I was "in my home," and I was made to feel that way.

That's what makes the difference.